Ann Veronica stood in the twilight room staring at the door that had slammed upon her aunt, her pocket-handkerchief rolled tightly in her hand. “What have you been doing since our last talk? Still cutting up rabbits and probing into things? I’ve often thought of that talk of ours—often. At least I imagine so, if what Madame Valade claims is true. Come down with me to the Lodge directly. They were talking of “Alcide,” as they often did in those days. Go back at once, please.
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