The telegram reminded Ann Veronica that she had no place for interviews except her bed-sitting-room, and she sought her landlady and negotiated hastily for the use of the ground floor parlor, which very fortunately was vacant. I’m not Gerald, remember. The curtain before one mystery was torn aside, and she saw in reality what lay behind the impulse that had led her into the young man's room. “You silly fool,” he said. She went about, intentlooking and self-possessed, trim and fine, concealing her emotions whatever they were, as the realities of her position opened out before her.
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