’ A panel slid open and she stepped into the relative light of the little dressingroom, Kimble close behind her. The ledge, along which he crawled, was about a foot wide. Ann Veronica forgot him as soon as she was through the gate, and her face resumed its expression of stern preoccupation. . The lunches were individual affairs: sandwiches, bottled olives and jam commandeered from the Victoria. And that’s why I’m at your service.
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