It's my way when I'm ruffled. 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. ‘Quite wrong, monsieur. ‘And I don’t mind telling you it goes agin’ the grain with me to let you go free and all, missie. He seemed inexorable, and inscrutable as fate itself.
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