Flinging her back against it, she put her hands out, barring his way. She felt he was going to say something more—something still more personal and intimate. Stanley, having pretended to linger to smoke, fled suddenly up-stairs to petrography, and when Veronica tapped he answered through the locked door, “Go away, Vee! I’m busy,” and made a lapidary’s wheel buzz loudly. He knew very well that his muscles were flabby, and his nerve by no means what it should be. .
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