‘Possibly,’ he said. “Go to London,” said Ann Veronica. ‘Never would he have gone to England. Do you know that he is very much in love with you?” Anna smiled. She had a horrible glimpse of the once nice little old lady being also borne stationward, still faintly battling and very muddy—one lock of grayish hair straggling over her neck, her face scared, white, but triumphant. ” “It is ironic that you say that, John, for it is I who am afraid of you.
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