Sheppard, faintly. “You had no right—” panted Ann Veronica. But all of that was forgotten. Manning, Lady Palsworthy’s nephew, a tall young man of seven-and-thirty with a handsome, thoughtful, impassive face, a full black mustache, and a certain heavy luxuriousness of gesture. When he was done she kissed his cheek tenderly. Sooner or later we’ll certainly do something to clean those prisons you told me about—limewash the underside of life.
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