Part 2 Ann Veronica Stanley was twenty-one and a half years old. "Was that thunder?" he faltered, as a terrible clap was heard overhead. A familiar figure was making his way towards them. The brilliant sunshine poured through the window, effecting an oblong block of mote-swimming light. A millionaire and a knight, even though his money has been made in carpets, is used to being a person of interest. Only he hated the words he uttered, hated the blunt honesty which forced them from his lips.
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