The bars dropped noiselessly and slowly down, till the chain tightened at the staple. His gaze dropped to the black garment that covered her. She felt scrawny, lanky, badly dressed in a baggy black T-shirt, sweaty, not at all beautiful; not even pretty. And all to find that picture of Mary Remenham. It is a true saying that in the mountains there is peace. And a time will come, Veronica, mark my words, a time will come when you will bless me for my firmness to-night.
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