Her mind wandered back to that fateful day. Ann Veronica looked down at her fingers on the claret-colored table-cloth. “Let us sit down for a moment,” he had said. " "Willingly. The afternoon had passed now into twilight. On the groundfloor the shutters were closed, or, to speak more correctly, altogether nailed up, and presented a very singular appearance, being patched all over with the soles of old shoes, rusty hobnails, and bits of iron hoops, the ingenious device of the former occupant of the apartment, Paul Groves, the cobbler, to whom we have before alluded. And in the vestry was the sword of monsieur le major.
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