“I might return the compliment, Courtlaw,” he answered, “by asking why the devil you come lurching on to the pavement like a drunken man. It is not so. The act was mechanical, a bit of sparring for time: his anger was searching about for a new vent. I am resolved to see her, without delay, and ascertain if it's possible to remove her. Wood could stand it no longer. Do you think she does?” Ann Veronica picked among her salad with a judicial expression of face.
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