He meant to take her out of this room, perhaps even out of the house. She got into rows through meddling with their shoes and tennis-rackets, and had moments of carefully concealed admiration when she was privileged to see them just before her bedtime, rather radiantly dressed in white or pink or amber and prepared to go out with her mother. Something like a snarl crossed his face, and ignoring the pistol, he moved forward, seizing her shoulders. “I cannot say who he is,” said Ann Veronica, “but he is a married man.
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