Anna leaned back with half closed eyes. “She’s going to have some sort of meal with the Widgetts down the Avenue, and go up with them. But you must not imagine me wrapped in melancholy. They joined the rabble of aspiring James Deans in torn jeans and bomber jackets and girls with Clairol black hair smoking clove cigarettes. Compared to most of America, you’re rich. ’ Upon which, she darted through the library door, galvanising both the sergeant and his two militiamen into action. They were terrible, horrible people. “Am I hurting you?” She asked. “I had the pleasure of—er—meeting you more than once, I believe.
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