‘Who is to be angry with you now?’ ‘Miss Prudence, that’s who,’ stated Joan bluntly. She cocked her head. There, after protestations of friendliness and helpfulness that were almost ardent, he mounted a little clumsily and rode off at an amiable pace, looking his best, making a leg with his riding gaiters, smiling and saluting, while Ann Veronica turned northward and so came to Micklechesil.
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