” “Did it hurt when we did it?” His voice rose, inflamed with worry. Ann Veronica sat firelit by her tea-tray with, quite unconsciously, the air of an expert hostess. She turned her head to each side. After all, it was what she had been praying for—and Annabel could not have known her address. “I’m not going to kill you, John. “Veronica!” cried Miss Stanley, warningly, and, “Peter!” For a moment they seemed on the verge of an altogether desperate scuffle.
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