He fell back upon the pillows with a little moan, clutching the slim white fingers fiercely. “That he should be in the same world with me!” said Ann Veronica, reduced to reading the list of good things the British Tea-Table Company had priced for its patrons. His hand fell lightly to her chest where her heart was 211 beating, almost tenderly. It’s no good hiding it any more. Then blackness.
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