‘Good, good—and not before time,’ muttered Roding, glancing round again. ” She looked at him, pleading, miserable in her fancy gown. "Jack," exclaimed the widow, starting up and drawing back the curtain. " "You need not," replied Jack, in a tone of the deepest compunction. It is foolish, she murmured to herself, foolish. He was a square-faced man of nearly fifty, with iron-gray hair a mobile, cleanshaven mouth and rather protuberant black eyes that now scrutinized Ann Veronica.
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