"I have nothing. You are not my husband. Ann Veronica brought her luggage in a cab from the hotel; she tipped the hotel porter sixpence and overpaid the cabman eighteenpence, unpacked some of her books and possessions, and so made the room a little homelike, and then sat down in a by no means uncomfortable arm-chair before the fire. “Do you mind very much?” He shook his head. In Singapore that had been her only dissipation: a dozen pairs of silk stockings.
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