She was aware of him—a silk-hatted, shiny-black figure on the opposite side of the Avenue; and then, abruptly and startlingly, he crossed the road and saluted and spoke to her. ‘Yes, like you,’ she snapped, with a venomous glance, her role evidently forgotten for the moment. It had been Ann Veronica’s lot as the youngest child to live in a home that became less animated and various as she grew up. ‘Let us go elsewhere and discuss the matter.
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