Will you unlock that door?” “Never!” he said. “I wonder what he takes me for?” When presently she got down from the stile a certain note of internal conflict, a touch of doubt, had gone from her warm-tinted face. The more she disentangled the lines of her situation the deeper grew her self-disgust. She stumbled through a thorny copse, her slippers sliding on patches of sand that gave way to rock. And as he walked by her side they began a wrangle that was none the less pleasant to Ann Veronica because it served to banish a disagreeable preoccupation.
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