” Ann Veronica meditated over that phrase. " "The boy's not at my house," replied Wild. He must have been following her from room to room, silent in his stockinged feet. He did not like it. ’ She gestured at his hand, on which Roding’s makeshift bandage had been replaced by a more efficient one. To his consternation, she was holding an unwieldy, ugly-looking pistol, all wood and tarnished steel, with both hands about the butt.
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