"What's this here kinchen in for?" asked Terence, as he and Quilt strode along, with Thames between them. . ’ He reached into an inner pocket of his coat and brought out a packet of papers. It was better even than the hymn-singing. That would be him. They had got all this down already—they heard the substance of it now for the fourteenth time. “It’s odd,” said Ann Veronica, re-entering the flat.
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