“We are not the sort that goes under,” said Ann Veronica, holding her hands so that the red reflections vanished from her eyes. " The spinsters nodded approvingly. You wanted to play a lone hand. Wild," observed Austin, as he put on his coat, and adjusted his minor bob. The Widgett method of thought puzzled her weakly rhetorical mind. A deep dread calm, like that which precedes a thunderstorm, now prevailed amongst the assemblage.
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