‘But don’t let me stop you from going to see Charvill. At least, you are one, and I am disguised like one. I’ll have to wait here, of course, which means you, Hilary—’ ‘Will have to do tomorrow’s patrol. Then one old crone, short-sighted and shaky-handed, called Ann Veronica “dearie,” and made some remark, obscure and slangy, of which the spirit rather than the words penetrated to her understanding. “Sit down,” he said, and perused—“perused” is the word for it—for some moments. . “Poor old Alice!” Her brother Roddy came to her and demanded tea, and asked her to state a case.
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