You creep around in a nun’s habit, peering into a private ballroom. ” “I suppose all men,” said Ann Veronica, in a tone of detached criticism, “get some such entanglement. It was lent me by a countryman o' mine; but I paid him back in his own coin—ha! ha!" "A countryman of yours, Terry?" "Ay, and a noble one, too, Quilt—more's the pity! You've heard of the Marquis of Slaughterford, belike?" "Of course; who has not? He's the leader of the Mohocks, the general of the Scourers, the prince of rakes, the friend of the surgeons and glaziers, the terror of your tribe, and the idol of the girls!" "That's him to a hair?" cried Terence, rapturously. That’s all. He could lose himself for hours at a time. ‘Come along.
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