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Her sister Alice seemed to have developed a religious sense away there in Yorkshire, and made appeals that had no meaning for Ann Veronica’s mind. " Mrs. He’s a prig to the finger-tips, is Sir John—doesn’t know what an artist is. ‘At me,’ she uttered, holding her own pistol high and aiming it steadily. I thought my sister and her murdered husband dragged me hither, to this very room, and commanded you to slay me. She stood up before him, smiling faintly.
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