Besides, there's something odd about the boy; for, though I questioned him pretty closely concerning his business, he declined answering my questions, and said he could only deliver his message to her ladyship. He was a square-faced man of nearly fifty, with iron-gray hair a mobile, cleanshaven mouth and rather protuberant black eyes that now scrutinized Ann Veronica. Do you expect me, I wonder. Who says that I am not Meysey Hill? I was trying to scare you. Cathy's eyes widened, her cheeks expanding to a smile.
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