“Dear me!” he said. ‘Have you any more pretty toys like that knife about you?’ ‘The girl’s a regular arsenal,’ Hilary snapped, giving up into his senior’s hand the nasty little weapon he had snatched. It engulfed them in black, white, and gray. Mrs. Annabel turned on the electric light and made her way into the sitting-room. “You’re—I don’t know,” said Ann Veronica.
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