Her brown curls were pulled tight in a severe chignon. "Shall I never banish those horrible phantoms from my couch—the father with his bleeding breast and dripping hair!—the mother with her wringing hands and looks of vengeance and reproach!—And must another be added to their number—their son! Horror!—let me be spared this new crime! And yet the gibbet—my name tarnished—my escutcheon blotted by the hangman!—No, I cannot submit to that. Ann Veronica was carried off her intellectual and critical feet by it altogether, and applauded and uttered cries that subsequent reflection failed to endorse. Either it was an unfortunate recovery of a trail, or he had followed her from Mayfair. On weighing the matter over, he grew so uneasy that he resolved to descend, and inform him of his misgivings.
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