“Hello!” said Ann Veronica, with arms akimbo and a careless, breathless manner. I really am enjoying it. “I say, Vee. Ann Veronica brought her luggage in a cab from the hotel; she tipped the hotel porter sixpence and overpaid the cabman eighteenpence, unpacked some of her books and possessions, and so made the room a little homelike, and then sat down in a by no means uncomfortable arm-chair before the fire. Each manuscript was like the other: the same lovely treatment of an unlovely subject. The Ragged Edge.
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