“Couldn’t we three go out and have some coffee somewhere? The thought of that drawing-room paralyses me. “NO!” she said, at last, with something in her voice that reminded Ann Veronica of a sprung tennis-racket. I must leave England to-night. ” Ann Veronica read this letter through with grave, attentive eyes. The thought caused him an odd kind of pang—of pity, naturally. She said she hoped she had not distressed him by the course she had felt obliged to take, and he told her not to be a fool.
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