Ann Veronica sat firelit by her tea-tray with, quite unconsciously, the air of an expert hostess. “You are mine, Annabel, and nothing shall ever make me give you up. She softened her tone and scrambled for the right words. Half French. “I shall have to give up biology, anyhow. You can live just about how you like. My best endeavours shall be used to bring you off, on the easy terms I have mentioned.
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