She sat, crouched together, by the corner of the hearthrug under the bookcase that supported the pig’s skull, and looked into the fire and up at Ann Veronica’s face, and let herself go. She knew the story only imperfectly, and followed it now with a passionate and deepening interest. “You must send for the police at once, you know. And Pottiswick, of course. ” She said with a tone of defiance. " Ruth did so, but without any particular fervour. " "So it seems," observed the woollen-draper, "and for every one else, too. “John?” He turned around in the recliner.
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