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She grew perhaps a shade paler, and she glanced out into the street, where her four-wheeler cab, laden with luggage, was still waiting. It was Sunday evening—a soft delicious evening, and, from the happy, cheerful look of the house, none would have dreamed of the dismal tragedy so lately acted within its walls. ‘I broke in. ” “I sent a telegram, aunt,” said Ann Veronica. The thought caused him an odd kind of pang—of pity, naturally.
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