‘What are you, a nincompoop? She was Nicholas’s wife, of course. 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. Down there, whisky raises the very devil with white men. He stood up abruptly and went to the window. And I think I must pursue my acquaintance with the fulsome Madame Valade.
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