She flung aside every plan she had in life, every discretion. Annabel was in hiding all the time. “I just came to you and put myself in your hands. Terrific yells rent the air. And I have made such arrangements that at my decease tardy justice will be done my injured nephew. He tore his gaze away, aware of the quickening of his heartbeat. The lantern was on the ground inside, ready. He was a little impressed by Ann Veronica’s metaphor of the string, which, indeed, she owed to Hetty Widgett. ’ ‘Do you indeed?’ rejoined the old lady, twinkling at him, and urging him towards the door.
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