“Veronica!” cried Miss Stanley, warningly, and, “Peter!” For a moment they seemed on the verge of an altogether desperate scuffle. ‘C’est ridicule. She wore a plain black dress, reaching almost to her throat—her small oval face, with the large brown eyes, was colourless, delicately expressive, yet with something mysterious in its Sphinx-like immobility. Thames said not another word, but marched boldly towards him, and seized him by the collar. And yet it was basically a fine action. It is she that I must see. If Thames is murdered, you are his assassin.
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