Recognising the handwriting, he glanced swiftly at the signature, and uttering an explosive curse, cast the paper from him. It began to rain, a cold sweat of precipitation that was more sickly than refreshing. His shirt also was unbuttoned, and disclosed a neck like that of an ox, and a chest which might have served as a model for a Hercules. “If it will keep you busy,” he said, with a faintly ironical smile. Ann Veronica stared at his foolish, propitiatory smile, his hungry gaze, through one moment of amazement, then stepped aside and went on her way with a quickened step. ‘Come, I told you I wish to know everything about you.
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