I can’t even make myself care. ‘Adieu, imbecile,’ she threw at him gleefully. Her aunt had a once exasperating habit of interrupting her work with demands for small household services, but now Ann Veronica rendered them with a queer readiness of anticipatory propitiation. That old world that had shoved up that silly old hotel, and all the rest of it. “You seem to forget that my sister is—married. “Did he tell you, Annabel?” “Yes.
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