Ann Veronica pushed aside a tea-cup and the vestiges of her strawberries and cream, and put her elbows before her on the table. She can't last long. ” “Never,” he exclaimed vehemently. ’ Then she ran swiftly out of the library, calling out as her cavalier was almost at the front door. “Did you ever see women so weary-looking and so dowdy? They do not talk. A white man takes his life in his hands. In the old days he had been something of an athlete—a runner, an oarsman, and a crack at tennis. “Damn!” said Ann Veronica to herself, rousing herself for a conflict.
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