Ann Veronica looked down at her fingers on the claret-colored table-cloth. She felt she had to go on. “You may find in it a paragraph of some interest to you. No tricks would serve. There’s no sense in morality, I suppose, unless you are fundamentally immoral. Laying these carefully aside, he restored the drawer to its place. It reminded her viscerally of her subhuman status, stripped away of the pretenses of art, intellect, and nicety. They entered a hansom and turned on to the Embankment. . She was alone with a deadly enemy. ‘That,’ he said stonily, ‘is yet another point over which we fell out. “You ass and imbecile, Ann Veronica! You female cad! Cad! Cad!. Wood. ” “You all seem to be trying to pull my leg,” Sir John remarked quietly.
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