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It had thrust her back with an undignified scuffle, with vulgar comedy, with an unendurable, scornful grin. He wore a long coat, beautifully flowered, and a hat with a turned up brim. "You came hither under my protection, and you shall depart freely,—nay, more, you shall have an hour's grace. It was a mad half-hour. You’re tired, of course. Beside me on Anna’s table was a pistol. He found himself thinking up all the psychology which he had ever read. As she talked she made weak little gestures with her hands, and she thrust her face forward from her bent shoulders; and she peered sometimes at Ann Veronica and sometimes at a photograph of the Axenstrasse, near Fluelen, that hung upon the wall.
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