Seven hundred forty-two dollars and eighty-one cents, the sum total of her money in the world that she hid in a filigreed cigar box shelved behind her schoolbooks. Twenty guineas, mind. ‘Lord, no! I’ve a better regard for my skin, I thank you. “If my own mother was alive,” sobbed Ann Veronica, “she would understand. " "It matters not who I am," replied Jonathan, taking the money.
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