They seemed the most wrapped things in all Ann Veronica’s wrappered world. It was hard to gain weight when you hated to eat. Ennison roused himself with an effort, took a long drink from his whisky and soda, and lit a cigarette. Her lips were apart, but no breath seemed to issue from them; and, but for a slight—very slight palpitation of the bosom, the vital principle might be supposed to be extinct.
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