‘It is you who is the fool,’ she threw at him, whipping round again. Yes, there was someone there. ‘Because I’m a female,’ declared Lucilla unanswerably. He yelled to her, asking her if she wished to have a drink with him, which she refused. She spotted her opportunity. He sat down on the sill of the open window, folded his arms, and stared straight before him for a long time over the wilderness of tiles and chimney-pots into a sky that was blue and empty. As she talked, the drift and significance of what she was saying shaped itself slowly to Ann Veronica’s apprehension. She was flushed, and her eyes were bright and angry; her breath came sobbing, and her hair was all abroad in wandering strands of black. He leaned towards her, laid his hand tenderly upon hers.
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