“You had no right—” panted Ann Veronica. She was a small blonde, not handsome, but with a flair for fashion demonstrated by her elegant chemise gown in the very latest Canterbury muslin, with its low décolletage barely concealed under a fine lawn handkerchief set about her shoulders, and decorated with a mauve satin sash at the waist. He was detained. Don't strip me quite. Even there a woman never gets a fair chance. Books! She knew now what had saved her—her mother's hand, reaching down from heaven, had set the giver's flaming eyes upon the covers of these books. But we were both pledged to secrecy, and I couldn’t reveal my part for fear that I would lose my place. She prevaricated.
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