The white haze of poison clouded her eyes. ’ Roding’s voice changed. She wrapped her legs about his hips as he raised himself upon straight arms, piercing her with his gaze as he thrust into her. What does it matter? It is here, and it is here to stay. It is not, my dear Veronica, that I think there is any harm in you; there is not. Chapter VI A QUESTION OF IDENTIFICATION The little man with the closely-cropped beard and hair looked at her keenly through his gold eye-glasses.
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