Martin came to the door, looking radiant and relieved. Lucy thought of a song that she had not been able to get out of her head since the Fifties. You are your own Heaven and your own Hell, Lucy. Before he could make the thrust, however, he was seized behind by Ireton, who flung himself upon him. "I fear we're too late," he whispered to Thames. 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. " "Very well.
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