She propped a pillow against his padded headboard and sat herself into a stiff upright position, legs expertly crossed. A note of belligerency had crept into his tone. Wood, in a taunting tone. ” “Couldn’t I make a treaty?” Ann Veronica thought, and could not see any possible treaty that would leave it open for her to have quasi-surreptitious dinners with Ramage or go on walking round the London squares discussing Socialism with Miss Miniver toward the small hours.
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