" "A key!" exclaimed Wood eagerly. "Much that I would willingly forget. 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. Someday I'll take you down there and have them rig up the coconut dance for you. ” “I feel so guilty. So, in broken, rather breathless phrases, he told his story; and when he had done, he laid his arms upon the table and bent his head to them. .
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