Every now and then something familiar in her tone, the poise of her head, the play of her eyes startled him. “I’m sorry I told you that, Michelle. Jack, whose clothes were covered with dust, and whose face was deathly pale from his recent exertion, looked more like a phantom than a living person. He was smiling under his heavy mustache, and his head was a little on one side as he looked at her. Ann Veronica stood in the twilight room staring at the door that had slammed upon her aunt, her pocket-handkerchief rolled tightly in her hand.
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