“Yes,” said Ann Veronica, “yes,” to his explanation, and saw across the lawn Lady Palsworthy talking to her aunt, and both of them staring frankly across at her and Mr. CHAPTER VIII. “Ruin me? For what? Posterity? How could you ruin me, Lucy? What on earth are you talking about?” He got up and began to pace the room. She tried surreptitiously to reach her own dagger, in its cunning hiding place in her petticoat. It is no good arguing about a thing like that.
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