But at this, he halted, turning his frowning gaze back on her. "Speak plainly. “And where,” he asked, “are my rivals?” “Deserters,” she answered, laughing. He whispered in her ear. 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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