A. And yet—such is the buoyancy of youth—within a fortnight he began his first novel, pretending to himself that it was on Ruth's account. I don’t want you to talk to me now. To-morrow morning I shall have made up my mind what to do. “Let me introduce my friend to you,” Courtlaw said. Her aunt had secretly sent on to Ann Veronica some new warm underclothing, a dozen pairs of stockings, and her last winter’s jacket, but the dear lady had overlooked those boots.
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