He was sipping a glass of cold gin and water, and smoking a short black pipe. The fire—if there was any in him—never made headway against this insistant demand to know the significance of these manifold inward agitations. You’re like some splendid Princess in Exile in these Dreadful Dingy apartments!” “I’m afraid I’m anything but a Princess when it comes to earning a salary,” said Ann Veronica.
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