” She was silent. In the adjacent apartment Ann Veronica found a middle-aged woman with a tired face under the tired hat she wore, sitting at a desk opening letters while a dusky, untidy girl of eight-or nine-and-twenty hammered industriously at a typewriter. Melusine choked on a laugh, and Gerald at once seized the initiative, speaking in a tone deliberately soothing. This time they would call it murder. ‘Lover’s tiff indeed.
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