She had a feeling at his departure as of an immense cavity, of something enormously gone; she could not tell whether it was infinite regret or infinite relief. She reached a tiny yellow-fronted cottage covered with flowering creepers, and entered the front room by the wide-open window. Ann Veronica ignored her friend’s confusion. Everything proclaimed the mischievous propensities of the recent occupants of the chamber. She fluttered her eyelashes, and adopted the soulful tone that served her well at times. Jeremiah Jackson, and Mr. Sheppard returned no answer. It interwove with her biological work. Horrors abounded in every passageway as each turn could bring a vision of a poor woman running from her screaming plague-infested son or a bloated corpse of a rich man whose mouth lolled open, showing gaps where someone had pried out a few golden teeth.
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