Ann Veronica was lying on her bed in a darkling room staring at the ceiling. The hurricane had now reached its climax. “He can’t be more than thirty. No one had lived here since old man Remenham had died some eighteen months ago, for the heir, so it was rumoured, was a relative with property of his own. Yet you knew that I was not dead. “But you’re dating Mike now, and I’m dating John.
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