Ann Veronica stood in the twilight room staring at the door that had slammed upon her aunt, her pocket-handkerchief rolled tightly in her hand. He dressed rather after the fashion of the West End than the City, and affected a cultured urbanity that somehow disconcerted and always annoyed Ann Veronica’s father extremely. ‘Léonore, then?’ She shook her head animatedly, enjoying his attention. “I am sorry that I have murdered you. I know less about this affair perhaps than you suppose. " "I'll excuse it nevertheless," returned the little damsel, affectionately extending her hand to him. Applying his ear to the keyhole, Jack listened, but could detect no sound. Then instinct took over. He smiled at Ruth as she turned away from the bed, smiled with both his mouth and eyes; and she knew that here would be a man of heart as well as of science. She stood among them, watching them and feeling curiously alien to them.
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