Ann Veronica, who knew her dress became her, dropped a curtsy to her father’s regard. Having drunk as much as he thought prudent, and thanked his unknown friend for his attention, Jack again lay down on the straw, and indulged himself with another nap, intending to get up as soon as it was perfectly dark. Jacques, Jacques!’ His face was white, but his eyes were open, if a trifle glazed. ‘Good, good—and not before time,’ muttered Roding, glancing round again. The old aspect of the place was gone. Nor is Theresa, or even Thérèse.
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