” “I’ve been clearing up,” said Ann Veronica, brightly. She stood, as it were, directed doorward, with her eyes watching every movement, listening to him, repelled by him and yet dimly understanding. The dog approached timidly, his tail going furiously. She could visualize the picture she had presented, particularly the battered papier-mâché kitbag at her feet. She wondered who the girl might belong to as she patted dirt over the shallow grave.
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