I wonder, Ann Veronica, if, when our time comes, we shall be any wiser?” Ann Veronica watched a water-beetle fussing across the green depths. “No,” she said, under her breath, “you can’t face it. Moreover, atrociously and inexorably, he allowed it to appear ever and again in horrible gleams that he suspected there was some man in the case. It makes no difference. “But your hair,” he gasped. ’ ‘And if she can’t?’ asked Lucy. The next morning she went out with her post-office savings bank-book, and telegraphed for a warrant to draw out all the money she had in the world. The thief-taker's throat was bound up with thick folds of linen, and his face had a ghastly and cadaverous look, which communicated an undefinable and horrible expression to his glances. He stopped in mid-sentence, and Ann Veronica opened the door for her aunt. .
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