Of the vast mass of these impressions Ann Veronica could make nothing at the time; there they were—Fact! She stored them away in a mind naturally retentive, as a squirrel stores away nuts, for further digestion. "No"—as if her thoughts were elsewhere. ‘Who is to be angry with you now?’ ‘Miss Prudence, that’s who,’ stated Joan bluntly. Arrived at the secret door, she grasped the lever that opened it and placed the lantern on the floor.
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