The echoes of his hard, unpleasant laugh reached Anna on her way upstairs. Lord Charvill champed upon an invisible bit for a moment or two, closing the gap between himself and the girl, and muttering the name to himself in an overwrought sort of way. “Let us put the lamp out,” she said; “the flames are ever so much better for talking,” and Ann Veronica agreed. This will be safer than cutting his throat on shore. “John, you were never bound to me, you don’t owe me anything.
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