"You are no longer Thames Darrell," she said, casting her eyes rapidly over it; "but the Marquis de Chatillon. I don’t quite know why. There was a gentle rustling of skirts. “And to-night we are friends?” “We are friends,” said Ann Veronica, and drew her hand quickly away from him. ’ ‘There is no need for this,’ he ventured mildly, and lifted his finger to show his own pistol was not cocked. ‘Well, if that’s what the good Lord wants, then you’ll just have to accept it.
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