"No, no, let him alone," interposed Wood. The Well Hole. “My chief,” he said, “took it into his head to have an impromptu dinner party. He shut his eyes and groped for the wall to steady himself, wondering if this bit of mummery would get over. It was a motor accident—a fatal motor accident the evening papers called it. She felt that Ann Veronica had duped her in that dream, and now that she had come up to London she might as well speak her mind.
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