“Veronique!” she cried with a rising intonation, though never before had she called Ann Veronica anything but Miss Stanley, and seized her and squeezed her and kissed her with profound emotion. Meanwhile, the executioner had attached strong cords to his ankles and wrists, and fastened them tightly to the iron rings. Certain of my prey, I can afford to wait for it. ‘Hilary, thank God! Have you a pistol about you? Or better yet, your sword.
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