. ’ ‘Exactly so. There was nothing left now of the selfassured, prosperous man of affairs. Ann Veronica stood in the twilight room staring at the door that had slammed upon her aunt, her pocket-handkerchief rolled tightly in her hand. All right really. He kissed her once inside the car. The looming face was 71 over her own once again, and arms as strong as iron bars held her down.
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