He must be gone to dispose of the body. “Yes?” he said. Ann Veronica forgot him as soon as she was through the gate, and her face resumed its expression of stern preoccupation. A sea voyage under sail will be the making of him. Her feathered hat fell from her head and down her back, and she felt fingers writhing in the mass of her hair and caressing the flesh of her neck beneath so that she shivered uncontrollably.
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