Looked all over that dratted convent of yours—or at least Trodger and the men did so—but no sign of them. "I fear not," replied Jack, despondingly. “Let us walk across the Park at least,” he said to Ann Veronica. A man's laced hat,—whether adopted from the caprice of the moment, or habitually worn, we are unable to state,—cocked knowingly on her head, harmonized with her masculine appearance.
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