” “It’s a very good image,” said Ann Veronica. A tourist caravan of four pole-chairs jogged along a narrow street. I know you’re young but I think I, no, I know that I love you. ” The cabman, knocking with the butt end of his whip upon the window, reminded her that he was in a similar predicament. ” “Bit starchy,” said Ann Veronica, and altered the key abruptly.
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