The baby crawled towards them, seeking their blood. CHAPTER V At dinner the spinsters invited Ruth to sit at their table, an invitation she accepted gratefully. “Veronique!” she cried with a rising intonation, though never before had she called Ann Veronica anything but Miss Stanley, and seized her and squeezed her and kissed her with profound emotion. ‘Your wife?’ ‘My wife,’ he repeated, rising also, his smile mocking her. Annabel a murderess! It was not possible. They had turned into the street, on the opposite side of which were the flats where Anna lived. And I want you for myself—for my wife. Pierre.
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