Wood, whose loss I shall ever deplore. All men are bloody fucking hypocrites. He turned to Mrs. " "What's that?" asked Wood with some curiosity. I just suppose it isn’t worth the trouble. He loved Ann Veronica, he said; he was so mad to have her that he defeated himself, and did crude and alarming and senseless things. Run along now; but return in half an hour. He pressed the long shapely hand warmly in his. He must know she’ll be at a convent. The City worried him a good deal, and what energy he had left over he spent partly in golf, a game he treated very seriously, and partly in the practices of microscopic petrography.
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