At luncheon, on the third day, a thick-set man with a blue jaw smiled across his table at her. No, this was not reasonable. The vicomte has, he say, enough femmes in his hands. βIt would have been rash and unwise,β she said at the end of a meditation. For a long time to come that would naturally be the theme of any story he undertook to write. β Ann Veronica was about to reply, when he went on, with a still more deadly quiet: βI am not here to bandy words with you. Sheppard.
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