"To me?" gasped Winifred. "If you don't stop its squalling, I will. Maggot had disappeared. He was a square-faced man of nearly fifty, with iron-gray hair a mobile, cleanshaven mouth and rather protuberant black eyes that now scrutinized Ann Veronica. ‘Where are you taking me?’ she asked, assuming a fearful accent. It distressed and confused her that the girl should not come to her. So here I am, king of all I survey, with a predilection for poker, a scorched liver, and a piano-player. ’ ‘I don’t want to think it,’ he said, and she thrilled to the savagery in his tone.
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