"But vere'll be the use o' vinnin'? you von't live to pay me. ” Ann Veronica started from her reverie, sat up in her chair, became attentive. It was a gracious gesture, she thought, as he trudged to the Beck’s humble doorstep in his stiff blue polyester uniform. " "Very right, my love," said Wood, "very sensibly remarked. “Lord!” she said. He was a square-faced man of nearly fifty, with iron-gray hair a mobile, cleanshaven mouth and rather protuberant black eyes that now scrutinized Ann Veronica. The main idea now is of the future.
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