Gerald studied the darkness beyond the aperture. . . The guineas are not for serving your mistress. She held out her hand for it, but Gerald smiled. His face, as he looked down where his hand sought for a weapon concealed in her petticoat, was so close that she could see only the line of his firm jaw, the drag of his powdered hair that drew it into the military pigtail, and the black ribbon that adorned it. Part 2 Ann Veronica Stanley was twenty-one and a half years old. There was a Greyhound bus that she was overdue to ride.
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