Ann Veronica looked down at her fingers on the claret-colored table-cloth. You have somewhere to go to in London, I hope. “She has gone down into the country. I let him take me to the English Embassy, and we went through some sort of a ceremony. She was strong, not unlike a pack mule or a camel; she thought to herself and smirked. ‘Comment? This is not a mirror!’ It was a portrait. The image of Major Alderley came into her mind.
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