’ Mrs Chalkney lifted her brows. He was wrapped in a laced roquelaure, which he threw off on his entrance into the room. Her aunt returned before the packing was done, and Ann Veronica lunched with an uneasy sense of bag and hold-all packed up-stairs and inadequately hidden from chance intruders by the valance of the bed. She felt sleepy and unusually irritable. “But if you had?” she said.
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