"It is time!" "For what?" grumbled the latter, rubbing his eyes. Then he stood up and hailed a fiacre. He swore that I was his wife, that chance had given me to him at last. “And think, think”—her voice sank —“of the horrible coarseness!” “What coarseness?” said Ann Veronica. From the first there had always been between her and her listeners that electrical sympathy which only a certain order of genius seems able to create.
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