“You must answer me, Annabel,” she continued. The bodies had been found in the river without their heads, which were busy decomposing in a ravine. Ann Veronica wiped a scalpel, put a card over a watch-glass containing thin shreds of embryonic guinea-pig swimming in mauve stain, and dismantled her microscope. Yes; she had heard the music the night before. “I can see you and Anna groaning and nodding your grave heads together. They were ingenious disguises of gilt paper destructively gummed, it would seem, to Ann Veronicas’ best dancing-slippers.
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