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. Borrow. She became eager to explain herself, to show herself in the right light. Yet before she turned once more to resume her flight she schooled herself with an effort to look where it had happened. The wheel and the navigating instruments were sternward, under a spread of heavy canvas, a protection against rain and sun.
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