“Hello!” said Ann Veronica, with arms akimbo and a careless, breathless manner. " "Impossible, dear Mrs. My mind is full of ideas and images that I have been cherishing and accumulating—dreams of travelling side by side, of lunching quietly together in some jolly restaurant, of moonlight and music and all that side of life, of seeing you dressed like a queen and shining in some brilliant throng—mine; of your looking at flowers in some old-world garden, our garden—there are splendid places to be got down in Surrey, and a little runabout motor is quite within my means. I know now that I was mistaken. I have only just left Wych Street. And so is your companion,—the convict Sheppard. And I've already told you the accident was not Jack's fault. Yet in some hidden corner was a vein of sentiment, of which for the first time in his later life he was now unexpectedly aware. In the pause a door could be heard opening and closing on the landing up-stairs.
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