Yet she never once thought of changing it. ‘Comment? What do you wish?’ ‘What the devil do you think you’re up to now, I’d like to know?’ Her eyes flashed. When he faced Spurlock, the granite was cracked and rived; never had Spurlock seen such dumb agony in human eyes. “Ann Veronica,” he said. Vitally, she had the letter that proved her identity as a Charvill: the one her father had written to the Abbess when he sent her to the convent.
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