The question ceased to be a tea-table talk, and became suddenly tragically real for Ann Veronica. ’ His head came thrusting out at Melusine like a belligerent tortoise from its shell. “Can I bring you anything, sir—a whisky and soda, or a liqueur? You’ll excuse me, sir, but you haven’t touched your coffee. "You had better let me convey her to Dollis Hill," he said.
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