” Ann Veronica started from her reverie, sat up in her chair, became attentive. As he looked around, he beheld an incessant stream of passengers hurrying on below. It was her past now, not Annabel’s. As she talked she made weak little gestures with her hands, and she thrust her face forward from her bent shoulders; and she peered sometimes at Ann Veronica and sometimes at a photograph of the Axenstrasse, near Fluelen, that hung upon the wall.
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