” “But if we were?” said Ann Veronica. His job as a painter was wearing him down acutely as he aged. For a time she looked at no more apartments, and walked through gaunt and ill-cleaned streets, through the sordid under side of life, perplexed and troubled, ashamed of her previous obtuseness. ‘Don’t involve me in your lover’s tiff. But I'll call a doctor, since you order it. ’ A laugh escaped her. ” He smiled at her.
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