A film of dust lay upon it; the ink marks were ancient. He came in apologetically; all the old “Well, and how ARE we?” note gone; and once he asked Ann Veronica, almost furtively, “How’s Alice getting on, Vee?” Finally, on the Day, he appeared like his old professional self transfigured, in the most beautiful light gray trousers Ann Veronica had ever seen and a new shiny silk hat with a most becoming roll. Mr. Mike was draped over the laminate kitchen counter, on the phone as usual. "I call this ere crib the Little-Ease, arter the runaway prentices' cells in Guildhall.
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