Ann Veronica, who knew her dress became her, dropped a curtsy to her father’s regard. "A thousand pounds," he observed, gloomily, "is a heavy price to pay for doubtful secrecy, when certain silence might be so cheaply procured. ‘Jacques?’ she called out, forgetting the need for silence. You—It’s jolly of you to confide in me. ’ ‘Who were they?’ she asked abruptly. ” “I thought it was earlier,” said Ann Veronica. Gay, was a stout, good-looking, good-humoured man, about thirty-six, with a dark complexion, an oval face, fine black eyes, full of fire and sensibility, and twinkling with roguish humour—an expression fully borne out by the mouth, which had a very shrewd and sarcastic curl. The tourist season would soon be at ebb, and it would be late in September before the tide returned. Even though I knew you’d no one else to care. I could see his little animal brain churning away, inventing plans for me, formulating his revenge.
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