He had been on the point of leaving the restaurant. "There's Sharples," cried Quilt. "I say," retorted Edgeworth Bess, with a very unfeminine imprecation, "I shan't stand any more of that nonsense. Spurlock lay with his head on his arms, asleep. But—It’s just this: who was to be hurt?” “I wish no one had to be hurt,” said Ann Veronica.
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