’ Fury rippled again. Ann Veronica sat back in an attitude of inattention, her eyes on a distant game of cricket, her mind perplexed and busy. He reached out a hand gropingly, sagged, and toppled out of the chair to the floor, where he lay very still. Sorrow lay in the back of his mind as he withdrew, but he put it aside. Then they dressed her in a dirty dress of coarse serge and a cap, and took away her own clothes. He was now almost driven to despair. She longed to enjoy human food as he did. Captain Roding strode into the parlour. And he had destroyed all this.
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