Ann Veronica sat firelit by her tea-tray with, quite unconsciously, the air of an expert hostess. " "What kind?" "Dickens, Hugo. She leaned forward, her chin in her palms, her elbows on her knees, and she set her gaze upon his face and kept it there in dreamy contemplation. Spurling was in a state of distraction and began to abuse Jonathan so violently that her future husband was obliged to lay forcible hands upon her and drag her away. “You might at least,” she murmured, “have invented a more romantic reason.
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