’ I don’t know what you’d call it —a sort of witchery, almost suggestiveness. “Won’t you sit down,” she said, “and tell me what you want to say?” Her voice was flat and faint. ” Ann Veronica sat with her chin on her hand, red-lit and saying little, and Miss Miniver discoursed. ’ ‘What offer?’ she asked, suspicion rife in her voice. “Who from?” She met his eye for a second and her heart failed her.
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