Ann Veronica’s tense nerves started, and she stood still with her eyes upon him, wondering what it might be that impended. I never even burrowed down into the trunk. On a stool eight feet high sat a small boy in a faded blue cotton, his face like that of young Buddha. She could stow away, go to a place where there were no people to eat and end her life. Perhaps Ferringhall has pensioned her off. ’ ‘Will you indeed? Truly?’ His smile held so much tenderness, she was tempted to surrender at once.
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