1. "What's that to you?" demanded Jonathan, gruffly. ‘The credentials, milor’,’ he ventured. Ann Veronica could at the same time ask herself what this queer old gentleman could have meant by speaking to her, and know—know in general terms, at least—what that accosting signified. " "You'd better hold your peace, my lad," observed Jonathan, in a menacing tone. She had been working upon a ribbon of microtome sections of the developing salamander, and he came to see what she had made of them. "So you did," replied the prize-fighter.
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