He touched her hand, soft and cool to his fingers—she turned at once to look at him. Furious shouting, and the thunder of running feet. ‘Don’t look at me like that,’ Martha begged. This—’ waving an imperious hand in a sweeping arc about the library ‘—is my house. . There was a little pause between them, full for Ann Veronica of rapid elusive suspicions and intimations. But did any woman get anything better from a man? Perhaps every woman conceals herself from a man perforce!.
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