“But why is it preposterous?” asked Ann Veronica, and fiddled with a pipe on the mantel. Cased and ribbed with stone, and braced with horizontal beams of timber, the piles, which formed the foundation of these jetties, had resisted the strong encroachments of the current for centuries. Everything in this world changed—except human folly. Would it be Thérèse?’ She shook her head. You are not my husband. I’m not half smart enough for the West End. It was a mass of knick-knacks.
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