‘But a spy I am not. “No you don’t!” said Ann Veronica, and walked out at a brisk and businesslike pace toward the house. I sha’n’t care a rap if we can never marry. Rain started to pummel the roof of the pavilion, which coalesced into sheets and rumbled to the cement below. “I wish,” she said, “that you would leave off looking at me as though I were something grisly. One wants helpers and protectors—and clean water. Grasping one of chairs about the little table, he drew it forward and sat astride it, in a fashion as insolent as it was unexpected.
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