Then as she drew nearer paint showed upon her face, and a harsh purpose behind the quiet expression of her open countenance, and a sort of unreality in her splendor betrayed itself for which Ann Veronica could not recall the right word—a word, half understood, that lurked and hid in her mind, the word “meretricious. It was he who saw them first coming down the room—Annabel in a wonderful white satin gown in front, and Sir John stiff, unbending, disapproving, bringing up the rear. The thing is, Miss Charvill —’ ‘He told you my name?’ cut in Melusine, surprised. The smell of gunpowder was strong in the room. Best assured of that. All my plans have succeeded.
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