Ann Veronica sat back in an attitude of inattention, her eyes on a distant game of cricket, her mind perplexed and busy. ‘I just don’t understand you, Gerald. That is what my mother used to call me. ‘You see,’ he pursued blandly, ‘I lead a life of the most intolerable boredom. “It’s like this,” he said, and dragged a stool beside her and sat down with his elbow four inches from hers and made a sketch.
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