‘I rather gathered as much,’ said Miss Froxfield, releasing her hands. Then she burst into a peal of laughter. He was reaching wearily for some kind of buffer to his harrying conscience. The room was worse than pokey, it was shabby; and the view from the window, of chimney pots and slate roofs, wholly uninspiring. Hanging about! And they start thinking and asking questions, and begin to be neither one thing nor the other. It is quite a descent from the clouds, isn’t it?” “I will accept that,” Anna said, “as accounting for the surprise. ” “I don’t care how we meet,” she said. Wood did think of it, and groaned aloud. I don’t understand the workings of a gentleman’s mind. ” End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Ann Veronica, by H.
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