The slack of her ridinghabit and full under-petticoats was gathered into her left hand, and her booted ankles were visible as she held the skirts well out of her way. Hilary could not have suggested such a thing. “You!” said Ann Veronica. “NO!” she said, at last, with something in her voice that reminded Ann Veronica of a sprung tennis-racket. She did not want particularly to know what had caused his agony, what had driven him back to the old coat.
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