“I’m ready,” said Ann Veronica, closing her microscope-box with a click, and looking for one brief instant up the laboratory. ‘You will have to prove it, you know,’ Gerald said quietly. Earles thinks I am a little mad, and between ourselves I am not sure about it myself. He was an officer, and a person of very great sense, and altogether a desirable parti. But I do hope, Vee, I do hope—this is the end of these adventures. You didn’t even do that Vee; not even that. His voice now had lost its ironies. Nothing, in short, portable or valuable was left. ‘Well said, my dear. ‘Why do you think I told you about the portrait? I’d not seen it, of course, but I’d seen Miss Mary just before she got married, which is when it was painted. I will shed no more blood. Winifred Wood was now in her twentieth year. "I've spoken.
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