Jacques, Jacques!’ His face was white, but his eyes were open, if a trifle glazed. The hand which the man had been holding hung limp and nerveless at her side. It was an odd room, used principally for the reception of guests and visiting dignitaries, packed from end to end with ill-assorted sofas and padded chairs. “Go to London,” said Ann Veronica. She infused menace into her voice. At that a new element poured into her excitement, an element of wild disgust and terror. Of course, it really signified nothing in this careless part of the world that she was travelling alone.
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