Ann Veronica sat back in an attitude of inattention, her eyes on a distant game of cricket, her mind perplexed and busy. You have threatened to kill me for nothing, I know not how many times. Sheppard was committed to the earth. He was alert, well-groomed, and yet—perhaps in contrast with the more volatile French type—there was a suggestion of weight about him, not to say heaviness. She clenched her hands together and leaned forward in her chair, gazing steadily into the fire. .
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