But, suppose I've no place to lock 'em up in, how then?" Quilt looked a little perplexed. As she talked she made weak little gestures with her hands, and she thrust her face forward from her bent shoulders; and she peered sometimes at Ann Veronica and sometimes at a photograph of the Axenstrasse, near Fluelen, that hung upon the wall. “You were seen to leave the flat, and your handkerchief was found there. The weed was all right. ‘Not entirely English then. ” She said, ignoring the absurdity of her own statement. ’ ‘Must we talk of it? I’m trying to forget it. '—'They can't,' says I.
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