‘Well she does,’ insisted Miss Froxfield impenitently, and turned to Gerald. As she talked she made weak little gestures with her hands, and she thrust her face forward from her bent shoulders; and she peered sometimes at Ann Veronica and sometimes at a photograph of the Axenstrasse, near Fluelen, that hung upon the wall. “You ought at once—you ought at once to have told her that. I said to myself at once, ‘Either this is a coincidence or the caper sauce.
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