’ ‘Dieu du ciel,’ burst from mademoiselle as she jumped up. He glanced at Miss Klegg again, and spoke quickly and furtively, with eager eyes on Ann Veronica’s face. If it was not an actual personal lover, it still might be the lover not yet incarnate, not yet perhaps suspected. He had just passed through a terrific physical test. ‘She ought to be. Poor girl! she was beautiful once; so beautiful as to make me, who care little for the allurements of women, fancy myself enamoured of her. . Horrors abounded in every passageway as each turn could bring a vision of a poor woman running from her screaming plague-infested son or a bloated corpse of a rich man whose mouth lolled open, showing gaps where someone had pried out a few golden teeth.
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