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. “But I am your husband,” he said. ’ He glanced at Roding. If such a thing in connexion with him had been possible they would have declared that he was in a towering rage. Whatever anticipation Ann Veronica had formed of this vanished in the reality.
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