’ ‘A convent?’ echoed Gerald with interest. ‘Did you sigh and flutter your eyelashes?’ ‘Certainly I did. “You must arrest me!” she gasped, breathlessly, insisting insanely on a point already carried; “you shall!” The police-station at the end seemed to Ann Veronica like a refuge from unnamable disgraces. The air was sweet with the smoky perfume of myrrh, hazy and dense with incense. ‘I’m taking you to Gerald, my girl. Ruth Enschede, Hartford, Conn.
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