Ann Veronica was not ready enough to deal with that counter-stroke. The reddish-haired young man contributed allusions to the Hegelian philosophy that momentarily confused the discussion. Wood's, the carpenter in Wych Street. "Don't scourge me," she cried, trying to hide herself in the farthest corner of the cell. Her aunt returned before the packing was done, and Ann Veronica lunched with an uneasy sense of bag and hold-all packed up-stairs and inadequately hidden from chance intruders by the valance of the bed.
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