Whatever anticipation Ann Veronica had formed of this vanished in the reality. She saw it, and checked without thinking. Her mind turned to her own future, the endless trickle of years. The thief-taker's throat was bound up with thick folds of linen, and his face had a ghastly and cadaverous look, which communicated an undefinable and horrible expression to his glances. "Ah! Quilt Arnold, my man, is it you? By the powers! I'm glad to see you.
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