But, this sad affair disposed of, I will not rest till I have avenged my murdered parents. Why ever did you let me get into that wagonette?” “I thought we had to,” said Ann Veronica, who had also been a little under the compulsion of the marshals of the occasion. It was exactly as Sebastian had foreseen. It would have been a crisis anyhow, but it was complicated in Ann Veronica’s mind by the fact that a letter lay on the breakfast-table from Mr. Come up stairs, and take a glass of brandy.
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