Yes. There was a little pause between them, full for Ann Veronica of rapid elusive suspicions and intimations. Her husband sat in a chair beside her bed, his head in his hands. Her father, her own father! She remembered now a verse from the Psalms her father had always been quoting; but now she recited it with perfect understanding. Only old librarians and Shirley Temples say that. We aren’t worth it. I had a hunch. She looked at him as he fingered a small switch on the side of the helicopter’s door. .
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