The girl had told him distinctly that her name was Anna. The lighting-up pierced the obscurity of the box, and Ramage stopped his urgent flow of words abruptly and sat back. The air was sweet with the perfume of flowers, and the melody of murmuring insects, the blue sky was cloudless, the heat of the sun was tempered by the heather-scented west wind. "Hear! hear!" vociferated Quilt. She was curious, and at the same time clearly resolved she must not hear it. "I cannot remain here long. Don't ask any more questions. She quickly strangled him with the piano wire as he looked at her, his lips open as if to scream, but his larynx had been intentionally sliced.
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