Personally, however, I doubt if—’ ‘Charvill?’ interrupted Gerald without ceremony, all his senses at once on the alert. Ann Veronica took off her jacket and sat down in the corner chair, and leaned forward to look into the great hazy warm brown cavity of the house, and Ramage placed his chair to sit beside her and near her, facing the stage. He flung himself backwards, hit the dais and fell heavily before the altar, losing his low-crowned beaver. It was a mad half-hour. "Then I am old-fashioned. The wedding procession passed on, and the cynical rabble poured in behind.
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