It was not in evidence here, not a sign of it. She could visualize the picture she had presented, particularly the battered papier-mâché kitbag at her feet. Ann Veronica took off her jacket and sat down in the corner chair, and leaned forward to look into the great hazy warm brown cavity of the house, and Ramage placed his chair to sit beside her and near her, facing the stage. ’ ‘Who’s bleeding to death?’ demanded Trodger.
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