She was about to rush to his side, when she saw his clenched hands rise and fall upon the sand repeatedly. Ann Veronica blushed. “I don’t know whether I shall go on,” said Gwen, a novel note of languorous professionalism creeping into her voice. “You silly wimmin,” he said over and over again throughout the hearing, plucking at his blotting-pad with busy hands. His lawful wife; but nothing more; beyond that she was only an idea, a trust. Anna’s face however was wholly impassive.
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