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It was the end, she told herself, fiercely. You are the High Priestess of Life. The acid of this incertitude had disintegrated his nerve; and in Canton had come the smash. Ann Veronica was lying on her bed in a darkling room staring at the ceiling. “Would they make her Queen?” She asked innocently. I’ll have to wait here, of course, which means you, Hilary—’ ‘Will have to do tomorrow’s patrol. So he decided to stay.
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