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It was perfectly legitimate. The white haze of poison clouded her eyes. “Are you in a hurry? Will you come in and have some coffee?” He hesitated, and glanced towards her companion. The fire—if there was any in him—never made headway against this insistant demand to know the significance of these manifold inward agitations. “You killed them, didn’t you?” He said. I wish that it worked. Anna admitted the fact. She HAD cried, Ann Veronica knew. ‘One of they Frenchies, that’s what I say—if it ain’t a ghost.
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