” Ann Veronica was stung to helpless anger. "Ay, robbed him," reiterated Jonathan. “You!” said Ann Veronica. “I couldn’t help it. ” Courtlaw laughed hardly. Her life hangs upon a thread, and this may snap it. He hung over her—he and his loan to her and his connection with her and that terrible evening—a vague, disconcerting possibility of annoyance and exposure. ‘But you said—’ Gerald tutted. They took her fingerprints sitting at the gray metal desk of Officer Nolte, the virile young buck who had brought her in.
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