Ann Veronica stared at his foolish, propitiatory smile, his hungry gaze, through one moment of amazement, then stepped aside and went on her way with a quickened step. It’s time she knew. ‘Who, the émigrés?’ ‘Do I speak of the English, imbecile? Certainly the émigrés. He whispered in her ear. Not conceiving that his sister—feeble as she was, and yielding as she had ever shown herself to his wishes, whether expressed or implied—would depart without consulting him, he was equally surprised and enraged to hear the servants busied in transporting her to the carriage. The weather's been foul enough for the last fortnight, but I've never turned my back upon it.
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