Books! Aren't they wonderful?" The blind alley of life stretching out before her, with its secret doorways and hidden menaces; and she was unconcerned. It was a motor accident—a fatal motor accident the evening papers called it. It was a perfect windless spring day, a Sunday. The hansom sped through the crowded streets. “Is it your maid?” he asked. ” “Poor old ring!” said Ann Veronica. “She seems an unusually clever girl,” said Ramage. F.
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