Obeying some fine instinct, she had come to the prison in a dark veil, but she had pushed this up to kiss Ann Veronica and never drawn it down again. ‘Perhaps she don’t understand English,’ suggested Roding. And the fact that it was dressed in riding gear had fooled her into thinking it was her own image. She was never violent when angry: she became as calm and baffling as the sea in doldrums. She caught at the idea.
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