Sheila pounded the kitchen table, causing the bell jar with the silk flowers to tip over and roll to the floor. For a second time Ann Veronica wanted to swear at the universe. He'd never forgive you. He was sitting back from the table now, with one arm over the back of his green chair and the other resting on the little table. ‘I don’t know what the devil you’re talking about. ” “He said, ‘Poor Alice has got no end!’” “Alice’s are different,” said Ann Veronica, after an interval. During all their long comradeship he had never so much as ventured to hold her fingers.
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