“Soon enough, John. Whatever anticipation Ann Veronica had formed of this vanished in the reality. Only he hated the words he uttered, hated the blunt honesty which forced them from his lips. The tired woman looked up in inquiring silence at Ann Veronica’s diffident entry. Then she looked up the sweep of pine-trees to the towering sunlit cliffs and the high heaven above and then back to his face. Seventeen hours, sixteen hours.
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