I don’t know what has come over me. Only her ungloved fingers, and the arms in their long tight sleeves as she held the heavy gun aloft, bore any sign of stiffness. There was a strained, eager expression on his face. The question ceased to be a tea-table talk, and became suddenly tragically real for Ann Veronica. Amidship there was also canvas, and like that over the wheel, drab and dirty. The only thing that was louder to her was the beating of his heart.
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