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" "Who told you this is his portrait?" demanded Trenchard. I want to talk to you, and I must return tomorrow. Her fingers were bursting through her gloves, as if to get at once into touch with Ann Veronica. ’ ‘Yes, but I need a word with Gerald,’ protested the captain, hanging back. She wanted to think. He was in misery; he was paying for last night's debauch. He took his seat at the table, but leaned forward to address her. ‘Pray do not trouble yourself, Saling.
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