Chapter XXX SIR JOHN’S NECKTIE Sir John, in a quiet dark travelling suit, was sitting in a pokey little room writing letters. A snarl contorted his features, and he marched up to it, laying his pistol down on the marquetry table so that his hands were free to grab the picture off the wall. ” He beamed upon her. Whatever anticipation Ann Veronica had formed of this vanished in the reality. ’ ‘Your husband?’ Gerald tutted. .
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