" "I have. “We are not the sort that goes under,” said Ann Veronica, holding her hands so that the red reflections vanished from her eyes. ” “Why not?” She turned on him. F. Aunt Jane had her quiet moments. As she talked she made weak little gestures with her hands, and she thrust her face forward from her bent shoulders; and she peered sometimes at Ann Veronica and sometimes at a photograph of the Axenstrasse, near Fluelen, that hung upon the wall.
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