Beneath the serene unconcern of Ann Veronica’s face was a boiling tumult. Seeing provisions in the window, Jack ventured in and bought a loaf. The vestry door opened to the mews behind, and not to Golden Square. At last in a street near the Hampstead Road she hit upon a room that had an exceptional quality of space and order, and a tall woman with a kindly face to show it. “That sounds interesting. But she veiled her feelings. "My enemy," replied her son.
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