Ann Veronica readjusted her chin on her hand. "But vere'll be the use o' vinnin'? you von't live to pay me. She directed him to an old part of the highway, a featureless stretch of old farmhouses capped in snow, with the occasional working silo. The Jacobite IV. For what she lacked in appearance, Sheila compensated in gossip. Thames took it, and beheld the portrait of a young man, apparently—judging from his attire—of high rank, whose proud and patrician features certainly presented a very striking resemblance to his own.
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