Ann Veronica paused before she answered. She could still remember herself at age five, staring knives and daggers at the men who came into the small yarn shop, under pretense of business but really just to leer. “That’s HIM,” said Ann Veronica, in sound, idiomatic English. On coming to himself, he found he had been wrapped in a blanket and put to bed with a couple of hot bricks to his feet. The entrance was barred against them; and they had the additional mortification of hearing Sheppard's loud laughter at their discomfiture. It was so difficult to put precisely.
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