“Won’t you sit down,” she said, “and tell me what you want to say?” Her voice was flat and faint. He was not Meysey Hill, but an Englishman of business, and he had only a small income. Oh, and only look at those stains,’ cried Miss Froxfield, gesturing at the blood on the ruffles to the sleeves of Melusine’s riding-habit, and on the chemise she wore under it. The telegram reminded Ann Veronica that she had no place for interviews except her bed-sitting-room, and she sought her landlady and negotiated hastily for the use of the ground floor parlor, which very fortunately was vacant. The doctor paced the room half a dozen times. These little squares of coloured paper interested her mightily—hotel labels.
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