‘But, Gérard—’ ‘Don’t start arguing,’ he said in a tone that brooked no defiance. Bravo!—the best cly-faker of 'em all couldn't have done it better. “You understand, then,” he was saying, “you understand?” “I understand,” said Ann Veronica, tear-wet and flushed with a reciprocal passion, but standing up to him with an equality that amazed even herself, “I understand. ‘Oh, peste, you make me late!’ She glared up at Roding.
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