” For some creditable moments in her life Ann Veronica was utterly disgusted with herself; she was wrung with a passionate and belated desire to move gently, to speak softly and ambiguously—to be, in effect, prim. I was stupid—stupid and impulsive beyond measure to burst upon you in this way. “Cheer up, Annabel. I should like to have had you forgive me. My foster mother, Janine, wasn’t much fatter. Her companion was a person of no inferior condition. They tracked the fugitive to the Mint; but, like hounds at fault, they here lost all scent of their prey. “You are a funny, a very funny young lady,” he said, “but we waste time here. Her anger died and she eyed him.
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