‘I never met a rat what wandered about the place with a lantern, I didn’t,’ grumbled the old lodgekeeper aggrievedly. It’s Italian. “Listen,” she said. There were sidetables and a writing table, similarly buried in bric-a-brac, and the chair by the French doors could hardly be seen for blankets. It was one of the most educational disillusionments in Ann Veronica’s career. It was a great weight from her shoulders to confide in another human being, and she suspected he did truly believe her.
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