You foolish girl!” Ann Veronica took that in silence. He smiled inwardly. “Well,” he said slowly, “I had met you three times—before Drummond’s dinner. McClintock laughed as he gave the letter to Ruth. At least I can’t talk to them. He looked at Annabel, whose face was buried in her hands— he looked back at Anna, who was regarding him with an easy composure which secretly irritated him.
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