“You must arrest me!” she gasped, breathlessly, insisting insanely on a point already carried; “you shall!” The police-station at the end seemed to Ann Veronica like a refuge from unnamable disgraces. She glanced at the Frenchman, and found him struggling with the portrait that was embedded around his scalp. Then he stood up and repeated it again. I’m going up to London with the Widgetts to that ball. "I understand," she said.
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