“Forgive my coming in,” she said to Ennison. Nigel Ennison was he. He had removed his silk hat, and now sat looking at Ann Veronica over an untouched cup of tea; he sat gloating upon her, trying to catch her eye. ‘But, Gérard—’ ‘Don’t start arguing,’ he said in a tone that brooked no defiance. To many in that crowded solitude it came as an extraordinary relief. ” Anna nodded. pglaf. She detected that the young officer’s shoulders tensed whenever she moved in the back of his 94 car.
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