As she talked she made weak little gestures with her hands, and she thrust her face forward from her bent shoulders; and she peered sometimes at Ann Veronica and sometimes at a photograph of the Axenstrasse, near Fluelen, that hung upon the wall. It was neither good nor bad. ‘Pen and paper, do you have them?’ ‘Danged if I have,’ came the truculent response. “I wonder if you will?” “Let me say one thing,” he said.
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