No doubt he knew enough of his world to recognise that he stood little chance against the word of a major of militia. Beneath the serene unconcern of Ann Veronica’s face was a boiling tumult. We simply can’t get away. The girl regarded him with the face of a Sphinx. She was listed for the raid—she was informed it was to be a raid upon the House of Commons, though no particulars were given her—and told to go alone to 14, Dexter Street, Westminster, and not to ask any policeman to direct her. “There’s morbid beauty,” said Ann Veronica. "Is she married?" he asked, after a brief pause.
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