“Why should one pretend?” she whispered. White is psychologically gifted. A smile trembled at the corners of her mouth as she recalled Gerald’s ridiculous upbraiding of his own reflection in the mirror. He loved Ann Veronica, he said; he was so mad to have her that he defeated himself, and did crude and alarming and senseless things. And, with a glance of malignant exultation, he quitted the vault, and locked the door. “Sir John!” Annabel gasped.
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