’ ‘To be sure I do,’ said Gerald swiftly. Annabel was born soulless, a human butterfly, if ever there was one. His hair is oddly streaked with gray —I might say a dishonourable gray. When any violent outrage was committed,—and such matters were of daily, sometimes hourly, occurrence,—a bell, the rope of which descended into the hall, brought the whole of the turnkeys to their assistance. ’ He laughed. “I think,” began Ann Veronica, “that you don’t realize—” He disregarded her entirely. He looked around, and as he heard that deafening shout,— as he felt the influence of those thousand eyes fixed upon him,—as he listened to the cheers, all his misgivings—if he had any—vanished, and he felt more as if he were marching to a triumph, than proceeding to a shameful death. Wood, terrified by the wildness of her looks. His face, as he looked down where his hand sought for a weapon concealed in her petticoat, was so close that she could see only the line of his firm jaw, the drag of his powdered hair that drew it into the military pigtail, and the black ribbon that adorned it. As she did so the preparation-room door opened behind her. “And now,” said Ann Veronica surveying her apartment with an unprecedented sense of proprietorship, “what is the next step?” She spent the evening in writing—it was a little difficult—to her father and— which was easier—to the Widgetts. There was an eerie sense of brooding menace about an uninhabited establishment.
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