’ I don’t know what you’d call it —a sort of witchery, almost suggestiveness. Wood then led the way up a rather high and, according to modern notions, incommodious flight of steps, and introduced his guest to a neat parlour, the windows of which were darkened by pots of flowers and creepers. “Your name and address were upon an envelope found in the pocket of an Englishman who was brought here late last night suffering from serious injuries,” he said in a dry official tone. ” There followed an instant’s pause, and then Ann Veronica had decided to misunderstand. \" 66 She commented as more doors slammed. ‘It is imbecile that you are.
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