A bowl of roses, just brought by Ann Veronica, adorned the communal dressing-table, and Ann Veronica was particularly trim in preparation for a call she was to make with her aunt later in the afternoon. Ants. “I’ll bring it to-morrow. ‘You had better kill me, mademoiselle, because otherwise I shall end by strangling you. ‘Nothing of the sort,’ argued Gerald. ‘But―but how can he know?’ His soldier’s instinct overtook Gerald and he dropped all his insouciance in a bang, becoming brisk.
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