Perhaps Gerald was not as clothheaded as he had thought. In the adjacent apartment Ann Veronica found a middle-aged woman with a tired face under the tired hat she wore, sitting at a desk opening letters while a dusky, untidy girl of eight-or nine-and-twenty hammered industriously at a typewriter. “You!” said Ann Veronica. ‘I do not know the word in English. A man as rich as you are ought to have a thousand-ton yacht.
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