As she talked she made weak little gestures with her hands, and she thrust her face forward from her bent shoulders; and she peered sometimes at Ann Veronica and sometimes at a photograph of the Axenstrasse, near Fluelen, that hung upon the wall. She parted the curtains to find him standing there. That it provided proof of the girl’s identity was one thing. How she needed him! Next moment, she had wrenched open the door, and was confronting her guard. It’s just to feel—one owns one’s self. He kissed her lightly on the lips.
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