‘Poor things. She gazed steadily out of the window at that arc of glittering lights. “Veronique!” she cried with a rising intonation, though never before had she called Ann Veronica anything but Miss Stanley, and seized her and squeezed her and kissed her with profound emotion. “I don’t know. She did not forge a note. It was on the eve of that memorable rebellion which broke forth, two months later, in Scotland. So that the thought of Ann Veronica up-stairs had been extremely painful for her through all the silent dinner-time that night. She sighed with relief. So strongly was he impressed with this idea, that grasping the iron bar with both hands, he dashed it furiously against the door, making the passage echo with the blows. She knew that the next time he caught her she would not be able to free herself.
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