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Ann Veronica sat firelit by her tea-tray with, quite unconsciously, the air of an expert hostess. Melusine dashed them away, but they kept on coming. ‘God loves you, even if your father didn’t. A white apron was tied round his waist, and into the apron was thrust a short thick truncheon, which looked very much like a rolling-pin. She went on from street to street, and all the glory of London had departed. ‘She hasn’t said so, but I presume Valade had got hold of all the useful papers,’ Gerald went on.
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