He was a square-faced man of nearly fifty, with iron-gray hair a mobile, cleanshaven mouth and rather protuberant black eyes that now scrutinized Ann Veronica. Although Martha did not know it, she had her pistol and her daggers, and her knife. Shamefaced curiosities began to come back into her mind, thinly disguised as literature and art. "But, if I should not return, take this purse to Edgeworth Bess. "Thank Heaven!" she gasped.
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