Her cheeks seemed to burn, her veins ran riot, and her heart was beating so fast that she was sure he must feel it through his scarlet coat. “NO!” she said, at last, with something in her voice that reminded Ann Veronica of a sprung tennis-racket. ” Meddoes turned round from the table on which he was practising shots and shrugged his shoulders. “Yes?” “You remember once, how we talked—at a gate on the Downs? We talked about how a girl might get an independent living.
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