So presently they got into a hansom together, and Ann Veronica sat back feeling very luxurious and pleasant, and looked at the light and stir and misty glitter of the street traffic from under slightly drooping eyelids, while Ramage sat closer to her than he need have done, and glanced ever and again at her face, and made to speak and said nothing. “I will be off,” she declared. "What for?" rejoined Quilt, evasively. She says that everyone in the house makes too much noise, my Dad snores, and that when the house is empty, the traffic noise is nearly deafening. ” “I hope that you may,” Anna answered enigmatically. It’s awkward, but we’ll get round it somehow. I promise not to do it again.
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