” He put his hands in his pockets, his mouth puckered to a whistle, and he went to the door of the outer preparation-room and stood there, looking, save for the faintest intensification of his natural ruddiness, the embodiment of blond serenity. Stanley, putting his hands on the table in the manner rather of a barrister than a solicitor, and regarding her balefully through his glasses with quite undisguised animosity, asked, “And may I presume to inquire, then, what you mean to do?—how do you propose to live?” “I shall live,” sobbed Ann Veronica. “We’re here to take your foster daughter down to the station to ask her a few questions sir. “This,” he said, and then: “No! Is this sweeter? Very well. " At this allusion to his leader, a shudder passed through Blueskin's athletic frame.
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