CHAPTER II. ” “Yes,” said Ann Veronica, “I agree to that. "So, stir your stumps, Saint Giles; and, if you mean to lock us up, use despatch. He had not been successful as the world counted success; the fat bank-account, the filled waiting room of which he had once dreamed, had never materialized except in the smoke of his evening pipe. I wish she wouldn’t look like that at us over her glasses.
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