Brendon was silent. A snarl contorted his features, and he marched up to it, laying his pistol down on the marquetry table so that his hands were free to grab the picture off the wall. “I’m ready,” said Ann Veronica, closing her microscope-box with a click, and looking for one brief instant up the laboratory. And, what's more, I tell you, if Captain Sheppard is hanged, you need never hope to call me Mrs. ‘You see now how dangerous it is to play this lone hand.
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