I find you were excessively brave, mon pauvre. It would have been very well if she had been some common creature who might have been bought off. He looked like the shadow of himself—thin, feeble, hollow-eyed—his beard unshorn—nothing could be more miserable. Too late she realised that Emile was not trying to escape. “You’re not a virgin, are you?” It was as much an accusation as a question. I saw it this morning in the Daily Journal—an advertisement, offering a reward—" "A reward!" echoed Jack. Beneath the serene unconcern of Ann Veronica’s face was a boiling tumult.
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