The ribald demons that infested the back of Ann Veronica’s mind urged various facetious interrogations upon her, as, for example, where the witness had acquired his prose style. He was a wonderful little creature with a perfect tiny face, mottled pink cheeks, and eyes brighter than May. " Jack could stand no more. He knocked his pipe on the teak rail. I’m not to study, I’m not to grow. Spurling, you're a witness to the bet. Diable. ‘It is you who is the fool,’ she threw at him, whipping round again.
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