Miss Stanley walked round the garden thinking, and presently house and garden reverberated to Ann Veronica’s slamming of the front door. On these were thrown all the horrible contents of Jonathan's museum, together with the body of Sir Rowland Trenchard. My death, probably. I said, that day at Surbiton, ‘There’s many good things in life, but there’s only one best, and that’s the wild-haired girl who’s pulling away at that oar.
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