“I think,” began Ann Veronica, “that you don’t realize—” He disregarded her entirely. “Hey, John. The unequal battle went on. At a sign from Ah Cum, official custodian of the sightseers, the polechair coolies pressed toward the left and halted. He saw her young and graceful back as she descended from the carriage, severely ignoring him, and recalled a glimpse he had of her face, bright and serene, as his train ran out of Wimbledon.
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