Wait a second. Ann Veronica’s experiences of men had been among more stable types—Teddy, who was always absurd; her father, who was always authoritative and sentimental; Manning, who was always Manning. . She took the piece of paper and unfolded it in the safety of her lap. ” That phrase about dragging the truth through swamps of nonsense she remembered from Capes. There were perches inside where she could crouch and labyrinths underneath where she could hide. ” “No,” said Ann Veronica, offhandedly. The material cares of life hang about your neck like a millstone. “My dear Miss Stanley, when I talked to you the other afternoon of work and politics and such-like things, my mind was all the time resenting it beyond measure.
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