” He looked at her with white, set face. Without turning or looking in his direction she leaned forwards, her head supported upon her fingers, her elbows upon her knees. ‘Of course she don’t understand,’ snapped Charvill irascibly. “Until you marry, Vee,” said Hetty. It was a motor accident—a fatal motor accident the evening papers called it. Marvel, in a tone intended to be consolatory. Lucy stole her last chance to observe Martin Chen, looking provocatively into his 257 eyes as the door was shut.
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