” “One has theories,” said Ann Veronica, radiantly. A curious silence ensued. “Where is my beautiful wife?” He bellowed from the downstairs. She stood there with white set face and nervously clenched fingers. “To Paris! But why? What do you hope to discover there?” “I do not know,” he answered, “but I am going to see David Courtlaw. Ann Veronica, with a sigh at the cost of hospitality, made a hasty negotiation for an extra tea and for a fire in the groundfloor apartment, and preened herself carefully for the interview.
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