Part 3
Ann Veronica’s father was a solicitor with a good deal of company business: a
lean, trustworthy, worried-looking, neuralgic, clean-shaven man of fifty-three,
with a hard mouth, a sharp nose, iron-gray hair, gray eyes, gold-framed glasses,
and a small, circular baldness at the crown of his head. They talked across their meal in an easy and friendly manner about Ann
Veronica’s affairs. ‘Sleeping like a baby, he is. It was easy to discover
that he was a knave, but equally easy to perceive that he was a pleasant fellow; a
combination of qualities by no means of rare occurrence. And if sometimes I grow heady—and it's in the blood—
remind me of this day when you took me out of hell—a thief. “My charm of manner, I suppose. “I’m not coarse—no! But I’ve got no purity of mind—no real purity of mind. Something as yet
unformulated within her kept her estranged from all these practical aspects of her
beliefs. Ramage admitted the force of that. "
"A secret!" exclaimed Trenchard. Later, she would
sew it on. Have you ever heard the name of Meysey Hill?”
“Meysey Hill?” He repeated it after her, and she knew at once from his tone and
his quick glance into her face that the name possessed some significance for him. Rot, no doubt; but we can’t alter
it. "My sight is failing
me. As they approached London Bridge, the thief-taker whispered Van
Galgebrok, who acted as steersman, to make for a particular arch—near the
Surrey shore.
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