Gerald was conscious of that sliver of irritation again at mention of the name. In one hand she carried a long-stalked red rose, dripping with dew, in the other the post-bag. But it would be too risky. ‘How the deuce did she get out without me seeing her?’ ‘Took advantage of the distraction, cunning little devil,’ Gerald snapped, racing down the corridor. “You cowards!” said Ann Veronica, “put her down!” and tore herself from a detaining hand and battered with her fists upon the big red ear and blue shoulder of the policeman who held the little old lady. She held up the lamp. Their faces were masks of abject horror, sunken and shriveled, their cheekbones protruding.
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