"What's that to you?" demanded Jonathan, gruffly. People ran out of their shops to join the pursuit; and, by the time Wild had got into Field-lane, he had a troop of fifty persons at his heels —all eager to assist in the capture. "Well—well," grumbled Jonathan, "I suppose I must be content. Go to her, I say, and take her in your arms, you poor benighted Ironsides! I can't make you see. Ann Veronica decided that “hoydenish ragger” was the only phrase to express her.
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