The day was warm even under an overcast sky and Hilary, uncomfortable, shifted his weight. ‘Damn you, what’s the matter with you?’ he snapped in frustration. His eyes were bright, and his voice had in it an unaccustomed timbre. I have slept with it under my pillow. If I had never met anything of you at all but a scrap of your skin binding a book, Ann Veronica, I know I would have kept that somewhere near to me. To-morrow they will know the truth. .
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