The tired woman looked up in inquiring silence at Ann Veronica’s diffident entry. She had removed her hat and utterly disarranged her already unruly black locks by running agitated fingers through them. ‘You will keep yourself utterly quiet,’ he instructed, a growl in her ear as they headed for the door. "Speak, or I fire!" "Well, if you will have it, it's Sir Rowland Trenchard.
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