There isn’t a husband breathing, Annabel, who wouldn’t have blessed that pistol in your hands, and prayed God that the bullet might go straight. He shut his eyes and groped for the wall to steady himself, wondering if this bit of mummery would get over. ‘Don’t concern yourself. "My servants, like Eastern mutes, must have eyes, and ears,— and hands, if need be,—but no tongues. When she saw Ann Veronica she stood for a moment as if entranced, and then advanced with outstretched hands. Ramage!” she began, and his mouth sealed hers and his breath was mixed with her breath.
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