Hastening along the passage he came to the sixth door. “Don’t think so,” Drummond answered. There was also the daunting task of getting dressed. Teas he contributed to the commissariat of Ann Veronica’s campaign—quite a number of teas. Over the mantel, set into an ornately carved panel with fluted columns at each end, was a portrait of a man on horseback. She addressed him in a tone of puzzlement. She intercepted the glance the spinsters exchanged, and immediately sensed that she had said too much. She had been so young then. She had traversed perhaps three bookshelves, passed across the door that must lead to the hall, turned the corner, and was just about to reach the fireplace when she abruptly became aware that something under her fingers had felt wrong. "I've waited supper, you perceive.
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