He fancied that the turnkeys had discovered his flight and were in pursuit of him,—that they had climbed up the chimney,—entered the Red Room,— tracked him from door to door, and were now only detained by the gate which he had left unbroken in the chapel. “Yes, I know. ” Ann Veronica turned her back on the Michaelmas daisies, and faced toward the house with an air of a duty completed. She produced a handkerchief, and with one sweep of this and a simultaneous gulp had abolished her fit of weeping. “You’ll do no such thing, Sheila. I firmly believe that she is as straight as a die. There is a small yewtree west of the church. .
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