“But why is it preposterous?” asked Ann Veronica, and fiddled with a pipe on the mantel. "Keep off, you accursed jade!" roared Jonathan, "—off, I say, or—" And he struck her a violent blow with his clenched hand. She hung about his chair, followed him to the door, touched his sleeve timidly, all the while striving to pronounce the words which refused to rise to her tongue. The door leading to the front of the house was stealthily opening. ‘But how do you come here?’ ‘Down on a routine patrol, unluckily for you,’ he answered grimly.
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