“Annabel at last,” he shouted. "Then, of course, you must know. ‘Yes, dear Nan, a flirtation. It’s to do with adolescence. She slid her cheek down the tweed sleeve of his coat. Why shouldn’t we be martyrs? There’s nothing else for most of us, anyhow. Next instant he had her immobilised, her hands behind her back, her chest crushed to his, the white veil slipping once again.
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