" "That's not my game. Having disposed of his steed and swallowed a glass of brandy, without taking any other refreshment, he threw himself on a couch, where he sank at once into a heavy slumber. There’s sure to be a place somewhere. It’s the only clean way for us. At last—I told a story. ‘And just who is Leonardo?’ ‘How in God’s name should I know?’ demanded Roding irascibly. She battled with a deadly faintness, and she tottered rather than walked back to her seat. It’s an instinct. He was unusually absurd and ready, and all the time it seemed to Ann Veronica as a delightful possibility, as a thing not indeed to be entertained seriously, but to be half furtively felt, that he was being so agreeable because she had come back again. “I believe,” he said, “that you mean me to be Prime Minister. The same old lines and verses, over and over, until there had come times when shrieking would have relieved her.
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