After all, this could never be the black sheep. Mike was showing his territorial instincts, brought out by the fact that he was drunk. Anna merely glanced at the coarse, flushed features, and at once shook 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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