They walked back to 118 hand in hand. 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. Now," he added, as his commands were reluctantly obeyed, "help me on with them. ‘So yours is the rattling tongue, is it, young madam?’ ‘I should say so. “More coffee, hon?” She held her hand over the cup.
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