“Better,” said Ann Veronica, with an unreal alacrity. I knew where I would go next: Florence. Her curiosity was insatiable, her dreams filled with happy speculation over what hair color her babies would inherit. He himself, middle-aged, steeped in traditions of the City and moneymaking, very ill-skilled in all the lighter graces of life, as he himself well knew, could yet come to her invested with something of the halo of romance by the almost magical powers of an unlimited banking account. " At this juncture, two women, very smartly attired in silk hoods and cloaks, appeared at the door of the Lodge. Old London Bridge.
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