They were in different key, they had a different timbre. “But, my dear!” said Ann Veronica’s aunt. She appeared not to have realised the implications of her outburst, but clung a little to Gerald’s hands which had taken hers in a comforting clasp. Gerald was conscious of that sliver of irritation again at mention of the name. She smiled and started for the stairs without reply. We WERE thieves. “I thought we had discussed that, father.
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