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Beneath the serene unconcern of Ann Veronica’s face was a boiling tumult. " "Both are dead," observed the knight, gloomily. He himself, middle-aged, steeped in traditions of the City and moneymaking, very ill-skilled in all the lighter graces of life, as he himself well knew, could yet come to her invested with something of the halo of romance by the almost magical powers of an unlimited banking account. The Roof and the Window. Her body rose up to meet his in a cat-like stretch and she smiled.
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