” Ann Veronica sat with her chin on her hand, red-lit and saying little, and Miss Miniver discoursed. Fortescue rambled round the garden with soft, propitiatory steps, the Corinthian nose upraised and his hands behind his back, pausing to look long and hard at the fruit-trees against the wall. Do you mean to tell me you didn’t understand why I wanted you to come here?” “Not a bit of it,” said Ann Veronica stoutly. She and her husband have no children and ten computers.
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