It was just upon the stroke of nine as he entered the Lodge, and Mr. She HAD cried, Ann Veronica knew. " There had never been, from that fatal hour eight months gone down to this, the inclination to confess. The steps, even the pavements, were invaded by little knots of loungers driven outside by the unusual heat of the evening, most of them in evening dress, or what passed for evening dress in Montague Street. . ” Ann Veronica listened with her eyes on the fire. There was only one prisoner in the ward.
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