‘Oh, Jacques, I cannot forgive myself!’ ‘Never you fret, miss,’ he uttered at once in a faint voice. Miss Stanley, it was manifest, had given him Ann Veronica’s address. Swiftly following the sound of knocking, she crossed right and passed through a door near the windows—and found herself in the bookroom. Await me in the coach. “Yes,” said Ann Veronica, trying to think where they were, trying to get things plain again that had seemed plain enough in the quiet of the night. Twenty-one, twenty-two.
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