” “I thought it was earlier,” said Ann Veronica. They agreed to lend her their hold-all and a large, formless bag which they called the communal trunk. He turned his eyes and stared at Miss Garvice like one who wakes from a reverie, and then got up and strolled down the laboratory toward his refuge, the preparation-room. Brown or Jones, I dare say. Annabel had taken her life into her hands with gay insouciance, had made her own friends, gone her own way. A new inexplicable madness that urged him to shrill ironically the story of his coat—to take it off and fling it at the feet of any stranger who chanced to be nigh. ” “Girls!” cried Ann Veronica.
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