” For some creditable moments in her life Ann Veronica was utterly disgusted with herself; she was wrung with a passionate and belated desire to move gently, to speak softly and ambiguously—to be, in effect, prim. Sleep did not come easily, but eventually her mind stopped its chattering and she fell into a deep slumber. ” She answered solemnly. “NO!” she said, at last, with something in her voice that reminded Ann Veronica of a sprung tennis-racket. Lucy crouched by the side of the grave, her head in her hands, rocking back and forth.
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