Then she was out of the door and running, fast. ’ ‘Merci,’ she sighed and, surrendering at last to his oft-proffered aid, allowed her head to droop onto his chest. He was a square-faced man of nearly fifty, with iron-gray hair a mobile, cleanshaven mouth and rather protuberant black eyes that now scrutinized Ann Veronica. “Why would she do that? Why does she care? That’s a waste of her time. Owing to this circumstance, Mr. Kneebone! you would greatly oblige me by surrendering yourself.
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