The ribald demons that infested the back of Ann Veronica’s mind urged various facetious interrogations upon her, as, for example, where the witness had acquired his prose style. " "Mine is Howard Spurlock. “I’ve gotta go. "Recollect you are in my power. ” She shook her head. The picturesque scoundrel had the true gift; and Spurlock was filled with pity at the thought of such genius gone to pot. She flung herself back into the bare little room, cold, empty, comfortless.
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