“I think,” he said, “that some one ought to warn her. “Why, it’s David!” he exclaimed. The quiet encounter and home-coming Ann Veronica and she had contemplated was entirely disorganized by this misadventure; there were no adequate explanations, and after they had settled things at Ann Veronica’s lodgings, they reached home in the early afternoon estranged and depressed, with headaches and the trumpet voice of the indomitable Kitty Brett still ringing in their ears. “I’d give anything,” he remarked, “to see our little Vee happily and comfortably married. She had imagined that prisons were white-tiled places, reeking of lime-wash and immaculately sanitary. "If you don't stop its squalling, I will.
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