He was no doubt doing his best to express the attitude of society toward these wearily heroic defendants, but he seemed to be merely rude and unfair to Ann Veronica. The pleasure intensified quickly, it was as much control as she dared to lose as she heard herself calling his name with all her breath. She had prepared herself to meet violent protest, a recurrence of that burning glance. As she learned more and more of his knowledge, she began to realize how much faith and trust he invested in her. "What a very remarkable thing it is," he observed, applying to his snuff-box, "that Thames Darrell, whom we all supposed dead,"—Kneebone in his heart sincerely wished he had been so,—"should turn out to be alive after all. ‘What are you, a nincompoop? She was Nicholas’s wife, of course. His eyes were closed. “Are you aware, Ann Veronica, you nearly throttled that gentleman?” Then she reviled her own foolish way of putting it. Her hair got loose, her hat came over one eye, and she had no arm free to replace it.
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