When Ann Veronica came into the study she found every evidence of a carefully foreseen grouping about the gas fire. “Yes,” said Ann Veronica, trying to think where they were, trying to get things plain again that had seemed plain enough in the quiet of the night. “This stirs one. He was about to cut the sergeant short, when his eye fell on a gentleman walking along Piccadilly, his manner uncertain, his eyes shifting as if he sought something out. “Oh, my dear!” she cried, and suddenly flung herself, kneeling, into her husband’s arms. She stopped abruptly, and looked in a flower-shop window. Some of your sex, I mean. She fixed her eyes upon it and ran, keeping always as far as possible in the shadow of the hedge, gazing fearfully every now and then down along the valley for the white smoke of the train.
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