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Wild," he added, as Jonathan came up, and assisted him to secure and disarm the prisoner. Each became frightfully aware of the other as a plastic energetic body, of the strong muscles of neck against cheek, of hands gripping shoulder-blade and waist. ” Ann Veronica meditated over that phrase. She looked more than her sixty odd years, in spite of a still lush head of black hair, streaked with a little grey, which was visible under her cap and of immediate interest to Gerald. It is the horse of the priest, you understand, and—and he does not know that I have borrowed it. She is like some character out of Phra the Phoenician: she's been buried for thirty years and just been excavated. There were so many things about her which he could not understand. Manning regarded her thoughtfully for a moment and stroked his mustache. Its dreariness, like the filthiness of the police cell, was a discovery for her.

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