" "Mr. ” “I couldn’t do that,” said Ann Veronica, sharply. ‘I fear you mistake, Emile. “My dad is into this stuff. "Well, I'm glad she's spared this. Ain’t enough as I’ve got militiamen quartered on me this se’ennight, lazing about all day, eating me out of house and home and drinking my liquor into the bargain. “You are talking like a boy. To his consternation, she was holding an unwieldy, ugly-looking pistol, all wood and tarnished steel, with both hands about the butt. “My dear,” she began, with an affectionate hand on Ann Veronica’s shoulder, “I do SO wish you would realize how it grieves your father. He never finished his sentence.
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