The sunshine was brilliant, the air mild. “This isn’t furtive,” said Ann Veronica. Notwithstanding the heat of the season,—which was not, however, found particularly inconvenient in this subterranean region,—a large heaped-up fire blazed ruddily in one corner, and lighted up a circle of as villanous countenances as ever flame shone upon. You can’t do that sort of thing unless you do it over religion, and there’s no religion in me—of that sort—worth a rap.
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