She was sorry for his liking her too much for his own good, but her need was too desperate to cavil at turning it to useful account. He looked like a French boy soldier she had once glimpsed marching towards his death in one of the battles they would later call the Hundred Years War. "I wouldn't force him for the world: but if he don't tip the stivers, may I be cursed if he don't get a taste of the aqua pompaginis. The vestry door opened to the mews behind, and not to Golden Square. Ann Veronica, after a last survey of the dinner appointments, followed him, rustling, came to his side by the high brass fender, and touched two or three ornaments on the mantel above the cheerful fireplace. He agreed it was disgraceful.
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