Then instinct took over. And at last Ann Veronica and Miss Miniver came down the dark staircase and out into the foggy spaces of the London squares, and crossed Russell Square, Woburn Square, Gordon Square, making an oblique route to Ann Veronica’s lodging. “Not for these things, O Ann Veronica, have you revolted,” it said; “and this is not your appropriate purpose. She watched the captain tuck the pistol back in his pocket, and perch on the edge of the big desk. And look, again, at the women one finds letting lodgings. I was raised in the Church.
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