Stanley, having pretended to linger to smoke, fled suddenly up-stairs to petrography, and when Veronica tapped he answered through the locked door, “Go away, Vee! I’m busy,” and made a lapidary’s wheel buzz loudly. This was no night for the indulgence of dreamy musing. “We are not the sort that goes under,” said Ann Veronica, holding her hands so that the red reflections vanished from her eyes.
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