“It was poison—why not?” she answered. Poor Ben was not so fortunate. ’ ‘He did, you know,’ grinned Gerald. Be off!" "Jack!" exclaimed his unhappy parent. No sterner head was ever beheld beneath the cowl of a monk, or the bonnet of an inquisitor. ‘If you shoot me,’ Gerald said quickly, throwing out a hand, ‘I shan’t be able to rescue you. “Why on earth,” he asked, “did you hurt me like that?” Ann Veronica did her best to think she had not deliberately attempted to cause him pain. It has been only the sort of nonsense which passes lightly enough between half the men and women in London.
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