An ill-lined purse is a poor recompense for the risk I have run. The arm about her was steel hard, and she felt the weapon that was placed at her heart, which thumped uncomfortably in her chest. ‘Don’t even think of it,’ warned Gerald, in the voice generally reserved for his men. Ann Veronica sat firelit by her tea-tray with, quite unconsciously, the air of an expert hostess.
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