“Ye Gods!” she said at last. Well, my dear, it is time you stopped wallowing in your sorrows like a common wretch. It was after all a momentary affair. As he pocketed it, her open palm reached out and slapped his cheek. In the corner of the room were two hockey-sticks and a tennis-racket, and upon the walls Ann Veronica, by means of autotypes, had indicated her proclivities in art. She had, poor inexperienced fool, given herself away.
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