Ann Veronica pushed aside a tea-cup and the vestiges of her strawberries and cream, and put her elbows before her on the table. “And where are YOU going?” he said. ” He hesitated, and went off at a tangent. ” “But Italy—” “Italy’s for a good girl,” he said, and laid his hand for a moment on her shoulder. It is foolish, she murmured to herself, foolish. Under his arm he carried a thick, knotted crab-stick.
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