"What motive have you for concealment?" he demanded. Stanley changed his key. "Look at him!" Ruth looked. It was such an unexpected stroke of fortune. "And the Marchioness is your daughter," added Thames. He has no imagination, no real generosity. They used the rope—not that a rope was at all necessary, but because Ann Veronica’s exalted state of mind made the fact of the rope agreeably symbolical; and, anyhow, it did insure a joint death in the event of some remotely possibly mischance. His countenance was almost as white and rigid as that of the corpse by his side.
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