His anger gave way to grim humour and he thrust towards them, leaning heavily on his cane. They used the rope—not that a rope was at all necessary, but because Ann Veronica’s exalted state of mind made the fact of the rope agreeably symbolical; and, anyhow, it did insure a joint death in the event of some remotely possibly mischance. He trembled violently. ‘Be quiet, man,’ snapped Hilary, watching the Frenchman go by with the lad after him. As they careened into a parking space, Lucy clung to the upholstery so as not to be thrown against the front seats.
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