She held out the foil. "Tell him that I—his adopted son, Thames Darrell— am detained here by Jonathan Wild. It was, Ann Veronica felt, as a sip or so of that remarkable blend warmed her blood, just the sort of thing that her aunt would not approve, to be lunching thus, tete-a-tete with a man; and yet at the same time it was a perfectly innocent as well as agreeable proceeding. Ah, if I had written that!" "Don't you want to live?" "I don't know; I really don't know. But what the deuce! He was human; he was a machine only when on the hunt.
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