Her interest grew as she read, a certain distaste disappeared. ‘He lacked moral fibre, did Nicholas. “Pretend,” he said, “that all I have said hasn’t been said. Moving swiftly to the end of the corridor, he pushed open a door at random and entered a large room, which looked to have been a saloon, judging from the faded gilt and crimson wall-paper, a mirror above the fireplace which was surrounded by an ornate gilded frame, now sadly tarnished, and a worn Chippendale sofa with striped upholstery and tasselled cushions. Hill lost a little of his truculency. I seed he was one,—and a sharp un, too,—at a glance. Beneath the serene unconcern of Ann Veronica’s face was a boiling tumult.
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