He looked at Annabel, whose face was buried in her hands— he looked back at Anna, who was regarding him with an easy composure which secretly irritated him. We are alone and we can say and do what we please. My death, probably. It was a great weight from her shoulders to confide in another human being, and she suspected he did truly believe her. Ann Veronica took off her jacket and sat down in the corner chair, and leaned forward to look into the great hazy warm brown cavity of the house, and Ramage placed his chair to sit beside her and near her, facing the stage.
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