’ ‘People are silly. Do you think it’s nothing to me to have my daughter running about London looking for odd jobs and disgracing herself?” “Sha’n’t get odd jobs,” said Ann Veronica, wiping her eyes. The smell assaulted them even before they entered the restaurant, greasy and savory. One of the coolies held the paper lantern. He had already spoken his mind on the folly of allowing a clearly dangerous female to escape a second time. A wild passion of shame and self-disgust swept over her. She responded as he slipped his hands under her sweater.
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