She tried surreptitiously to reach her own dagger, in its cunning hiding place in her petticoat. ‘Coward,’ she threw at him, brandishing the sword. ’ A sudden thought brought a frown to her brow. Part 3 Ann Veronica’s father was a solicitor with a good deal of company business: a lean, trustworthy, worried-looking, neuralgic, clean-shaven man of fifty-three, with a hard mouth, a sharp nose, iron-gray hair, gray eyes, gold-framed glasses, and a small, circular baldness at the crown of his head. "More than three hundred weight, Sir," replied the man.
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