By the time she arrived at the Beck’s doorstep, the morning was risen. ‘Seems quiet enough,’ observed the junior officer, his gaze raking the shuttered windows of the building’s grey stone frontage. “Hello, Gwen!” said Ann Veronica, trying to put every one at their ease. Gone off, cool as you please, and left me to manage everything. If I am to die in the attempt, then so be it. You can’t possibly understand!” He began a confused explanation, a perplexing contradictory apology for his urgency and wrath.
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