A deep dread calm, like that which precedes a thunderstorm, now prevailed amongst the assemblage. Sydney was strumming over a new song which stood upon the piano. “I am glad,” she told herself, “I came. But Sheppard was not to be silenced. “Veronique!” she cried with a rising intonation, though never before had she called Ann Veronica anything but Miss Stanley, and seized her and squeezed her and kissed her with profound emotion. I believed that she was my wife, or she would have been safe from me.
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