” “Go!” he said. ‘You, Mademoiselle Charvill, are as unlike most of your sex as you can be. She was listed for the raid—she was informed it was to be a raid upon the House of Commons, though no particulars were given her—and told to go alone to 14, Dexter Street, Westminster, and not to ask any policeman to direct her. Ann Veronica stood in the twilight room staring at the door that had slammed upon her aunt, her pocket-handkerchief rolled tightly in her hand. “I said you were”—he shouted—“NOT TO GO!” She made, and overdid, an immense effort to be a princess.
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