A dreamy sense of content crept over him. One chance in a thousand, and that would be the girl. Fretting and fidgeting, he had, after an hour or so, turned to McClintock. He was waiting in the outer hall as she tiptoed in. Still it was possible, and the difficulty was only a fresh incitement. Her eye met Miss Stanley’s understandingly, and she was if anything a trifle more affectionate in her greeting to Ann Veronica. Just one thing more. She had killed him. It is repulsive.
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