"And now let's see who'll dare to oppose me. He looked like the shadow of himself—thin, feeble, hollow-eyed—his beard unshorn—nothing could be more miserable. ” Ann Veronica sat at the foot of the sufferer’s bed, while Teddy Widgett, being something of an athlete, occupied the only bed-room chair—a decadent piece, essentially a tripod and largely a formality—and smoked cigarettes, and tried to conceal the fact that he was looking all the time at Ann Veronica’s eyebrows. “Dear me!” he said. Then he stepped briskly to his feet and bent over the wounded man. ‘Both of them so wise after the event.
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