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Such apartments as she saw were either scandalously dirty or unaccountably dear, or both. “And to-night we are friends?” “We are friends,” said Ann Veronica, and drew her hand quickly away from him. “Beasts!” But Miss Miniver took no notice of his admission. It now came to him with an added thrill how well she had told her story; simply and directly, no skipping, no wandering hither and yon: from the first hour she could remember, to the night she had fled in the proa, a clear sustained narrative.
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