One Friday afternoon, in this pleasant month, it chanced that Mr. ” “Then how have you managed?” “Bother!” said Ann Veronica to herself, and tried not to look guilty. “What’s the objection?” “I suppose she ought to know?” said Gwen to her mother, trying to alter the key of the conversation. Wood, sharply. It was an oldfashioned peasant blouse, white, square necked, and trimmed with lace.
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