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Miss Stanley, it was manifest, had given him Ann Veronica’s address. “Yes, but maybe later. His voice had changed, the joy had gone out of it; and she understood that something from the past had rolled up to spoil this hour. ” The detective thrust his notebook into his pocket. The wedding procession passed on, and the cynical rabble poured in behind. Her eyes filled as she thought of him, the image of his laughing countenance coming into her mind, to be swiftly followed by a vision of the blood running from his cut hand. He stared at her stupidly, forgetting to guard against the tactics he had come to expect from her.
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