Trenchard glanced at the document. Ann Veronica sat firelit by her tea-tray with, quite unconsciously, the air of an expert hostess. Manning, relinquishing his cup without answering her question, “when I hear you talk of earning a living, it’s as if I heard of an archangel going on the Stock Exchange—or Christ selling doves. . It engulfed them in black, white, and gray. Ann Veronica sat down in the other arm-chair and darned badly for a minute or so. "Here, wife—hostess—fetch me that bottle from the second shelf in the corner cupboard. John said nothing. The room behind was another small antechamber, presumably linking the back rooms. Holding down the light, he perceived that the wounded man had risen to the surface, and was trying to clamber up the slippery sides of the well. ‘Nothing would do for her but to come here,’ grumbled Hilary, wiping his heated brow with a pocket handkerchief dragged from his immaculate white uniform breeches.
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