Whatever anticipation Ann Veronica had formed of this vanished in the reality. I'm not quite such a greenhorn as Shotbolt, Jack, whatever you may think. You are infatuated. Rattles were sprung; lanterns lighted, and hoisted at the end of poles; windows thrown open; doors unbarred; and, as if by magic, the street was instantaneously filled with a crowd of persons of both sexes, armed with such weapons as came most readily to hand, and dressed in such garments as could be most easily slipped on.
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