’ ‘Poor little devil,’ said Gerald, genuinely sorry for her. So she built a shrine. On the walls were noticeboards bearing clusters of newspaper slips, three or four big posters of monster meetings, one of which Ann Veronica had attended with Miss Miniver, and a series of announcements in purple copying-ink, and in one corner was a pile of banners. Too late, alas, to stop the disastrous marriage. “Don’t you think I ought to?” she asked, very submissively. Sheppard, raising herself, and looking at him as if her life depended upon the answer. “Shit happens, John. The twins were a hard delivery, a C-Section.
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