” Part 3 When Ann Veronica found herself in her father’s study that evening it seemed to her for a moment as though all the events of the past six months had been a dream. It was impulsive and natural. “Hello, John. Footman or some such. The hymnal lyrics had never stirred her; she had memorized and sung them parrotwise. Got the tickets? Yes, but then—you said you borrowed?” “I did, too,” said Ann Veronica. A quarter of an hour passed. He rose deliberately to his feet and confronted them. They talked across their meal in an easy and friendly manner about Ann Veronica’s affairs. “Come right in,” he hissed under his breath, with the true conspirator’s note, closed the door very softly and pointed, “Through there!” By the meagre light of a gas lamp she perceived a cobbled yard with four large furniture vans standing with horses and lamps alight.
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