’ At that, a flush drenched her cheeks and she snatched her hand away. 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. No mercenary consideration influences me. " "Comfort yourself, then, Aliva. I want to know more about her. He seemed to avoid meeting Anna’s eyes as much as possible. Wood!—no," replied the turnkey. “I want to speak to you.
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