Rhea writhed and scuttled about like a crab. ’ ‘But where? Where has he gone? Always he goes off, and he says no word to anyone. Her answer was not quite ready. The note-passer lagged behind with her. Either you have had to love people or hate them—which is a sort of love, too, in its way—to get anything out of them. It is positively hateful to think of it. Lucy followed her. Then she went in and up-stairs, hesitated on the landing, and finally, a little breathless and with an air of great dignity, opened the door and walked into Ann Veronica’s room.
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