Wood did think of it, and groaned aloud. As she talked she made weak little gestures with her hands, and she thrust her face forward from her bent shoulders; and she peered sometimes at Ann Veronica and sometimes at a photograph of the Axenstrasse, near Fluelen, that hung upon the wall. The young man opposite was straining his ears to listen to their conversation. "I'm surprised you've not asked that question before, Sir Rowland. ’ She paused, struggling for the word.
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