He came in apologetically; all the old “Well, and how ARE we?” note gone; and once he asked Ann Veronica, almost furtively, “How’s Alice getting on, Vee?” Finally, on the Day, he appeared like his old professional self transfigured, in the most beautiful light gray trousers Ann Veronica had ever seen and a new shiny silk hat with a most becoming roll. ‘Have no fear,’ he uttered soothingly, reaching out to pat her free hand. I won't dig their graves with my nails. Some shadow of reserve seemed to have crept up between them. It’s a thing that’s happened to you. She clasped her hands over her mouth in a silent scream. Is there any truth, do you suppose, in this rumoured marriage?” “I know nothing,” Courtlaw answered hurriedly. And since then, he has openly avowed his determination of cutting his master's throat on the slightest inkling of treachery. He seemed to possess a penetration and cunning beyond his years—to hide a man's judgment under a boy's mask.
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