The evening breeze came; the bamboo shades on the veranda clicked and rasped; the loose edges of the manuscript curled. ‘I had no need of the place, and there was no money, of course. You did it on your own?” Ann Veronica smiled. Although Martha did not know it, she had her pistol and her daggers, and her knife. “Yes,” she said, “that is what we ought to do.
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