She told me the tale the other night, and I've only elaborated it. They all balk because there aren't any petticoats. I’ve a dread of love dropping its petals, becoming mean and ugly. You have not forgotten——” “I have forgotten nothing?” he answered, enigmatically. ” “Couldn’t I make a treaty?” Ann Veronica thought, and could not see any possible treaty that would leave it open for her to have quasi-surreptitious dinners with Ramage or go on walking round the London squares discussing Socialism with Miss Miniver toward the small hours. There was another little thing he had to say.
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