And at last Ann Veronica and Miss Miniver came down the dark staircase and out into the foggy spaces of the London squares, and crossed Russell Square, Woburn Square, Gordon Square, making an oblique route to Ann Veronica’s lodging. ‘I do not know your Gérard. My feelings overpower me. He called to the other attendant, who held the torch. The recollection of the forlorn and loveless years—stirred into consciousness by the unexpected confrontation—bent her as the high wind bends the water-reed. Her heart thudded. I swear it. ” “Daddy,” said Ann Veronica, “these affairs—being away from home has— cost money. ‘Oh, ah. Eight per cent.
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