He dressed rather after the fashion of the West End than the City, and affected a cultured urbanity that somehow disconcerted and always annoyed Ann Veronica’s father extremely. Valade, who was standing by her chair, glancing around the packed pink-papered saloon with a heavy frown on his face, was a thickset man of coarse, reddened feature, with a discontented air. At that, the girl jumped up. Capes was something superadded. Planting his knee against her side, he pulled her towards him with one hand, while with the other he sought his knife. She could not help but swoon a little. “Remember,” he said, “you are not by any means a dying man now, but you’ll never pull through if you don’t husband your strength. Or perhaps my father once. She would have been amazed if John was even aware of any one of the incidents. She had taken care he should have this momentous talk with her on a garden-seat commanded by the windows of the house. Mr. ‘She wants me to marry her.
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