To escape one phase of loneliness she had plunged into another, so vast that her courage sometimes faltered. The ribald demons that infested the back of Ann Veronica’s mind urged various facetious interrogations upon her, as, for example, where the witness had acquired his prose style. ‘That little kiss cost him his sanctuary, my girl, and don’t you forget it. But let that verse tell my secret. The Widgett method of thought puzzled her weakly rhetorical mind.
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