“We were good friends in Paris, weren’t we? You made me all sorts of promises, we planned no end of nice things, and then—without a word to any one you disappeared. A little smothered cry broke from her lips—the curtains were thrown aside and a man stepped out. I am used, you understand, to guard my secret. Each time that we meet I try to kill you. Ann Veronica, after a last survey of the dinner appointments, followed him, rustling, came to his side by the high brass fender, and touched two or three ornaments on the mantel above the cheerful fireplace.
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