By and by—as the paroxysm subsided and he became motionless—she stole back to the bungalow to wait. “Accident! She shot me,” he muttered. “I always shall. No one had the resources or the inclination to rebuild them. Montressor’s guests were. ” Even in the glamour of Miss Brett’s assurance it seemed to Ann Veronica that this was, after all, no more than the gospel of Miss Miniver with a new set of resonances.
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