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” Anna’s demeanour was still imperturbable, her marble pallor untinged by the slightest flush of colour. Or was that perhaps because his business in Piccadilly the other day had gone awry? Perhaps Brewis Charvill had not welcomed him with open arms. Perhaps she was. “The Widgetts,” she said. He had never wanted daughters. " "Oh, no!" Ruth protested. ‘You see now how dangerous it is to play this lone hand. " And she flung herself between them. Each became frightfully aware of the other as a plastic energetic body, of the strong muscles of neck against cheek, of hands gripping shoulder-blade and waist.
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