Part 3 Ann Veronica’s father was a solicitor with a good deal of company business: a lean, trustworthy, worried-looking, neuralgic, clean-shaven man of fifty-three, with a hard mouth, a sharp nose, iron-gray hair, gray eyes, gold-framed glasses, and a small, circular baldness at the crown of his head. “You remember our first meeting?” “Yes,” he answered hoarsely. " "Give me the brandy, and I'll tell you," replied Wood. Have you ever voted, Mr. ’ ‘Gammon!’ burst from the captain, who had just tossed off a glass of Madeira. "And will swear to it?" "I will. ” His eyes were burning.
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