He had never liked to be hugged, but she wondered if his corporeal needs would be made apparent by human touch. I’ve got imagination. It would have been a crisis anyhow, but it was complicated in Ann Veronica’s mind by the fact that a letter lay on the breakfast-table from Mr. ‘Valade, if you don’t mind. He was perched on the very edge of the leather seat of the coach, his threecornered hat twisting nervously in his hands, and from time to time he passed a tongue over dry lips.
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