He forgot Annabel’s idle attempts at love-making, all the cul-de-sac gallantry of the moment. Ann Veronica sat firelit by her tea-tray with, quite unconsciously, the air of an expert hostess. The very carts and vans and cabs that Wellington Street poured out incessantly upon the bridge seemed ripe and good in her eyes. I was just like a sort of dummy that does things as it is told—that is to say, as the strings are pulled. Everett’s gaze dropped to the papers in his hand. I’m behaving shockingly, I know. Very romantic and all that. I hate this part of the world. "It looks as though, we should go together," he said, pulling her toward him. Never mind. ’ He scratched his chin as if he thought about it, but covertly kept a careful study of what he could see of her face.
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