“But if you weren’t keen on the suffrage business, why on earth did you go to prison?” Ann Veronica reflected. Not that there had ever been any hope of that. Her mouth was an effective tourniquet. The chance had gone. Sir John gave his order, deliberately stumbling now and then over a word, and anglicizing others. There was a huge desk of heavily carved ebony at one end, and at the centre, a couple of straight-backed chairs stood before a great fireplace at the outer wall, flanked by two bookshelves with casement windows above.
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