Next to the executioner stood his wife—the former Mrs. Annabel seated herself in an easy chair and determined to wait for her sister’s return. Ann Veronica’s experiences of men had been among more stable types—Teddy, who was always absurd; her father, who was always authoritative and sentimental; Manning, who was always Manning. She crawled underneath the soft white sheets, reclining and pulling the blankets up to her chin. “Confound sex from first to last!” said Ann Veronica.
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