He was smiling,
a cruel, cunning smile--at least, she thought he was; Mr. Peters
himself was under the impression that his face was wreathed in a
benevolent simper; and in his hand he bore the largest pistol ever seen
outside a motion picture studio.
"How do you do, Miss Milliken?" he said.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Billie had been standing near the wall, inspecting a portrait of the
late Mr. Josiah Appleby, of which the kindest thing one can say is that
one hopes it did not do him justice. She now shrank back against this
wall, as if she were trying to get through it. The edge of the
portrait's frame tilted her hat out of the straight, but in this
supreme moment she did not even notice it.
"Er--how do you do?" she said.
If she had not been an exceedingly pretty girl, one would have said
that she spoke squeakily. The fighting spirit of the Bennetts, though
it was considerable fighting spirit, had not risen to this emergency.
It had ebbed out of her, leaving in its place a cold panic.
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