Manning; and added, “the twenty-ninth. It was Sunday evening—a soft delicious evening, and, from the happy, cheerful look of the house, none would have dreamed of the dismal tragedy so lately acted within its walls. “You and Anna,” she said, “seem to have stumbled upon a mare’s nest. If you were ten years younger, you'd have me wondering. Captain Hilary Roding and his inamorata, Miss Lucilla Froxfield. "That was the lad's name," returned the stranger. She HAD cried, Ann Veronica knew.
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