” He put his hands on her shoulders and lowered her onto the flat surface of the picnic bench. He came as an agreeable diversion from an insoluble perplexity. Anna looked at her, startled. “Why not? They tell me that London is impossible till after ten, and I want my first impressions to be favourable. ” She smiled at him, an understanding smile, but her words defied him. . For a second time Ann Veronica wanted to swear at the universe. But he died when he was a child—long ago—long ago—long ago. “I won’t pretend,” he said, “that this is an accident.
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