" "What do you mean, Sir?" asked Trenchard. ‘Good, good—and not before time,’ muttered Roding, glancing round again. “Do you know,” she confessed, “I never thought of that?” He looked at her as though doubting even now whether she could possibly be in earnest. "Write as I dictate," he cried, placing a pen in the jailer's hand and a pistol to his ear. Just so had his subordinates shown their apprehension. “My dear,” she began, with an affectionate hand on Ann Veronica’s shoulder, “I do SO wish you would realize how it grieves your father.
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