If ever she felt fatigue in these long tramps which had already taken her half over London, she never admitted it. ‘I’ll get the key,’ said Roding, turning abruptly. “The truth!” Annabel bent over her and whispered in her sister’s ear. The key is in my trousers. “How shall I get my luggage out of the house?. It happened that at the extremest point of Ann Veronica’s social circle from the Widgetts was the family of the Morningside Park horsedealer, a company of extremely dressy and hilarious young women, with one equestrian brother addicted to fancy waistcoats, cigars, and facial spots. Fiercely defensive, as usual. If Miss Charvill should take it into her head to dash off on some foolish errand, go with her by all means. The big gray spaces of London, the shop-lit, greasy, shining streets, had become very remote; the biological laboratory with its work and emotions, the meetings and discussions, the rides in hansoms with Ramage, were like things in a book read and closed. A thin line of red appeared in the white neck.
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