“Anything is better than this—this stifled life down here. He was all alone, like herself. Brendon was silent. Nothing at all. Five minutes ago, his butler had entered the green saloon, an austere apartment, with dark forest-green wallpaper flocked with a swirling design, and heavy mahogany furniture. “You must arrest me!” she gasped, breathlessly, insisting insanely on a point already carried; “you shall!” The police-station at the end seemed to Ann Veronica like a refuge from unnamable disgraces. Shot him, do you hear?” “Good God!” he exclaimed, looking at her curiously. She'll have this hour always with her; and you failed her. I’d rather not go,” she added.
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