She practiced swaddling on a doll, pretending to pat the head of her imaginary infant boy. Go and prepare for our departure. Don’t touch the handle, Annabel! Curse the thing, you’ve jammed it now. And still you interest yourself in my affairs. ’ ‘True enough,’ nodded Martha sadly. Ann Veronica pushed aside a tea-cup and the vestiges of her strawberries and cream, and put her elbows before her on the table.
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