“You see,” she said, very gently, “I AM going. “Wild horses—not if they have all the mounted police in London—shan’t keep me out. ” “It’s very kind of you—” began Ann Veronica. The study seemed absolutely unaltered, there was still the same lamp with a little chip out of the shade, still the same gas fire, still the same bundle of blue and white papers, it seemed, with the same pink tape about them, at the elbow of the arm-chair, still the same father. She gave up as he finished, spending himself in her mouth.
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