’ Martha looked up, belligerence in her tone. “So Cheveney was her friend, you think, eh?” he remarked. She felt his whole mind sounding in ecstasy. ‘Do not tell me he has escaped. From suburbs, from country towns—everywhere. It was his redemption, his ticket out of hell—that blue-serge coat. 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. Mr.
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