“I think, aunt,” she said, “you might trust to my self-respect to keep me out of that. One always dreamed of this and never believed it. He embraced her like her father once had. ‘It does not matter, Jacques. He figures them out, though. They used the rope—not that a rope was at all necessary, but because Ann Veronica’s exalted state of mind made the fact of the rope agreeably symbolical; and, anyhow, it did insure a joint death in the event of some remotely possibly mischance. I'll have a peep at him, if I die for it," she muttered, as she went out. Mike sat down, his body too large for the petite blue couch.
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