“Sir John of course disapproves of me,” she remarked slowly. ” Ann Veronica sat with her chin on her hand, red-lit and saying little, and Miss Miniver discoursed. Then she was turning, ignoring the muttered cursing and the rattling that immediately ensued at the door. Spurlock had sensed what had gone completely over McClintock's head—that this was the playing of a soul in damnation. He dined, and then pleaded a political engagement. “You seem to be taking our little joke more seriously than it deserves, Ferringhall,” he remarked.
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