You are my wife now and you belong to me. “I’ll come to the station,” said Ann Veronica. ” “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. How can you say such things? You’re too young to be married, and realize this: you’re not ready. The procession now wound its way, without further interruption, along Holborn.
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