CHAPTER XXIX. ‘It—it is—nothing,’ she uttered jerkily. She sat, crouched together, by the corner of the hearthrug under the bookcase that supported the pig’s skull, and looked into the fire and up at Ann Veronica’s face, and let herself go. ‘Is it such a terrible prospect? I will take care of you—as long as you obey me. ‘Poor things.
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