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’ ‘Yes,’ she agreed, but her manner was a degree less warm. On the walls were noticeboards bearing clusters of newspaper slips, three or four big posters of monster meetings, one of which Ann Veronica had attended with Miss Miniver, and a series of announcements in purple copying-ink, and in one corner was a pile of banners. ’ ‘It is well seen you are not Gérard,’ Melusine said, but thankful now that he was not. The shops were lighting up into gigantic lanterns of color, the street lamps were glowing into existence, and she had lost her way. He seemed to stay away from her because she was so cold and formal towards him, addressing him as Mister McCloskey as if she were an Irish maid. The slack cloth of her habit caught on a curlicue in the carved back of the pew in front, pulling her suddenly about. He hung over her—he and his loan to her and his connection with her and that terrible evening—a vague, disconcerting possibility of annoyance and exposure. ‘You could have fetched me home. . Without realizing what she has done, she's made a dreadful mess of it.
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