"What for?" demanded Wood. His shoulders were bent, his face was furrowed with wrinkles. She gazed with a quiet detachment toward the window and the Oxford Street traffic, and in her heart she was busy kicking this man to death. She felt that Ann Veronica had duped her in that dream, and now that she had come up to London she might as well speak her mind. “Indeed,” she said, “I would not.
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