Anything in the least irregular is like poison to him. Ann Veronica was lying on her bed in a darkling room staring at the ceiling. ‘If you did not want me to talk of it,’ she told him with characteristic insouciance, ‘you should not have mentioned the matter to me. It is to take place to-night. “That sounds quite absurd,” she answered. I might have known it. “I don’t think you can have heard me, Vee,” he said, with intensely controlled fury. ’ ‘Of course you weren’t there,’ snapped Hilary.
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