” “I will wait,” said Ann Veronica, still not looking at him, “and we will go into Regent’s Park. And then scratched it out and wrote instead, “Gérard”. He stood up and she ushered him out of the small room. The evening breeze came; the bamboo shades on the veranda clicked and rasped; the loose edges of the manuscript curled. Please yourself. The world, she discovered, with these matters barred had no particular place for her at all, nothing for her to do, except a functionless existence varied by calls, tennis, selected novels, walks, and dusting in her father’s house. . Framed in one of the square ports of the packet was a face which reminded Ah Cum of a Japanese theatrical mask.
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