And as he walked by her side they began a wrangle that was none the less pleasant to Ann Veronica because it served to banish a disagreeable preoccupation. “I really do not believe,” he announced with satisfaction, “that any one would recognize me. It is foolish, she murmured to herself, foolish. If not, I have plenty to think about,” she answered, leaning back in her chair, and watching the smoke from her own cigarette curl upwards. On his return to the room, Jonathan purposely left the door of the Well Hole ajar. Brendon’s had an awful stroke of luck.
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