“Grail!” said Ann Veronica, and then: “Oh, yes—of course! Anything but a holy one, I’m afraid. ’ For a moment Gerald said nothing at all. It’s an emerald. Spurlock. It was, Ann Veronica felt, as a sip or so of that remarkable blend warmed her blood, just the sort of thing that her aunt would not approve, to be lunching thus, tete-a-tete with a man; and yet at the same time it was a perfectly innocent as well as agreeable proceeding.
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