She pushed between the pews, hoping to reach the sword first, while desperately holding on to her petticoats to keep them up, as her sword arm wavered. Beneath the serene unconcern of Ann Veronica’s face was a boiling tumult. At noon the doctor himself arrived. . “They might do you good,” she remarked. Not then. ’ She thrust him out of the room and made for the stairs. Annabel entered. Still, her face never betrayed this distraction.
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