But he had always felt (he had never allowed himself to think of it) that the promptitude of their family was a little indelicate of her, and in a sense an intrusion. Oh, goodness! Bilking! Ann Veronica, you’re a bilker!” Pause. I forget the particulars, but I know it was something very disagreeable. Only her ungloved fingers, and the arms in their long tight sleeves as she held the heavy gun aloft, bore any sign of stiffness. . She raised this with the air of a conspirator unmasking, and displayed a tear-flushed face. When the paroxysm passed, he was forced to lean against the window-jamb for support. Mischief bubbled up in her. Earles himself stood upon the threshold of his sanctum, the prototype of the smart natty Jew, with black hair, waxed moustache, and a wired flower in his button-hole. Her pulses began to race.
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