It was a mass of knick-knacks. Then a roar of hisses. ‘Who, the émigrés?’ ‘Do I speak of the English, imbecile? Certainly the émigrés. He HAD followed her! What had he followed her for? He must have followed her all the way from beyond Grosvenor Square. She loved him. “NO!” she said, at last, with something in her voice that reminded Ann Veronica of a sprung tennis-racket. Everett’s gaze dropped to the papers in his hand.
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