” “Couldn’t I make a treaty?” Ann Veronica thought, and could not see any possible treaty that would leave it open for her to have quasi-surreptitious dinners with Ramage or go on walking round the London squares discussing Socialism with Miss Miniver toward the small hours. Spurling, hastening to the rescue. She hated being angry, the uselessness of it all, the frustration. Jolly hard life for a girl, getting a living. Thanks. Someone had thoughtfully wrapped a bit of tissue paper round the electric bulb. ’ ‘That’s fortunate,’ murmured Lucilla.
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