We close the chapter. “Hello!” said Ann Veronica, with arms akimbo and a careless, breathless manner. ” She peered at him through the semi-blackness. Young, not much older than she was: she was twenty and he was possibly twenty-four. We were to live in some wretched London suburb. Beneath the serene unconcern of Ann Veronica’s face was a boiling tumult. ‘There you have soldiers. The next morning came a compact letter from her father.
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