“I am. He put down his hat and umbrella, rested his hands on his hips, and regarded Ann Veronica firmly. “Don’t you know?” “Oh! I know—” “Well—” Her face was an unaccustomed pink. 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.
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