‘You are Mrs Ibstock, I think,’ she said eagerly. "Arrest!" vociferated Wood. ’ Rather to his surprise, she obeyed this injunction as he led her up two flights of stairs to the first floor. It is abominable—” “What is the use of keeping up this note of indignation, Ann Veronica? Here I am! I am your lover, burning for you. You are your nephew's executioner, or he is yours. “Why, it’s David!” he exclaimed. She was, she guessed, close to the library. ‘That is my mother.
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