CHAPTER XXXII. "You must take it to Sir Rowland Trenchard's in Southampton Fields. But—It’s just this: who was to be hurt?” “I wish no one had to be hurt,” said Ann Veronica. ’ Melusine looked from his coarse red features to the pistol, and froze inside as she recognised his intention. They looked out over the city, grim and silent now, for it was long past midnight. From midnight until morning he was now left alone. That any human being could conceive and execute such a thing! A Roundhead, here in these prosaic times!—and mad as a hatter! Trying the rôle of St.
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