She lingered over donning her winter coat, buttoning each toggle and placket, double knotting her long scarf. ” The topic of his invalid wife bored him, and he turned at once to Ann Veronica. “Much as I hate rows, I’ve either got to make a stand or give in altogether. I have always hated it. Her two sticks were bare and brown, her snugged canvas drab, her brasses dull, her anchor mottled with rust.
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