The ribald demons that infested the back of Ann Veronica’s mind urged various facetious interrogations upon her, as, for example, where the witness had acquired his prose style. I’m a hard young woman. ” “What ball?” The question was rhetorical. “No. ” Annabel looked at him curiously. ” She looked at him with uplifted eyebrows—a look of whimsical incredulity. It isn’t. ‘I don’t want a hue and cry after me, I thank you.
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