Beneath the serene unconcern of Ann Veronica’s face was a boiling tumult. “You’ll be there, right?” She asked, hearing his breathing audibly jump. Accordingly, he stopped the coach, dismounted, and hastened towards the assemblage, which, he was glad to find, consisted chiefly of a posse of watchmen and other guardians of the night. She tiptoed into the entryway where some decorator had placed a live orchid upon a glassy ebony table.
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