. . Not that there had ever been any hope of that. Spurlock was no longer a man before this instinct; he was a child in trouble. She smiled encouragingly, laying aside her plate and turning her chair from the table. She wanted to take him in her arms and hush him, but she sat perfectly still. Capes made a quick movement as if to bite that aggressive digit, but it withdrew to Ann Veronica’s side. She was chic, distinguished, unusual.
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