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. ‘Stand where you are, or I shoot!’ Like lightning, thoughts zipped through her mind. "You are arrested for high treason," rejoined Wild, presenting a pistol at his head, while he drew forth a parchment,—"here is my warrant. I’m not discussing Shakespeare. Nothing at all. You’re a lady all right and tight, and nothing anyone does can take that away from you.
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