Several men and women were piled there like wood, dead, horribly gored. She dreaded living off the land again, like an animal, as she had done for dozens of years at a stretch. Ann Veronica was in their very forefront. She tried surreptitiously to reach her own dagger, in its cunning hiding place in her petticoat. Wood was heard without, angrily demanding admittance. "I'll soon settle this business. Ann Veronica sat back in an attitude of inattention, her eyes on a distant game of cricket, her mind perplexed and busy. You make a game with me, imbecile. It is Anna again who stands between me and ruin. The major’s hand stilled.
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