Recognising the handwriting, he glanced swiftly at the signature, and uttering an explosive curse, cast the paper from him. “Veronica!” cried Miss Stanley, warningly, and, “Peter!” For a moment they seemed on the verge of an altogether desperate scuffle. Many little things had contributed to that decision. It was a dark mysterious place, and what it was used for no one exactly knew; but it was called by those who had seen it the Well Hole. Never before had any human being kissed her lips. ‘And it is me you dare accuse? It is yourself you should arrest. A little table covered with a damask cloth was dragged out. ‘You’ve found her out?’ ‘Tell us at once,’ urged Miss Froxfield. ‘Martha was my wet-nurse? But she is unmarried. “I believe that he would bore me. Tell me a story—with apple-blossoms in it—about people who are happy.
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