All seemed infected with Austin's terrors except Mrs. Ann Veronica sat firelit by her tea-tray with, quite unconsciously, the air of an expert hostess. “But this is a surprise!” said Ramage. Sydney was strumming over a new song which stood upon the piano. She became as The Tigress, a free thing. “It isn’t a joke,” she said. If he laid his own suspicions boldly before the girl, and in the end the boy came clean, he would always be haunted by the witless cruelty of the act.
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