She drew a chair to the window and stared at the splendour of the tropical night. “This is MY thing,” said Ann Veronica, softly, with thoughtful eyes upon him. “There is something to be said for the lady-like theory after all,” she admitted. He thought it best to let the matter drop. “What night will you dine and go to the theatre with me?—and how about Hurlingham on Saturday?” Anna shook her head. Out of an old family album: here was the very comparison that had eluded him. "Too late, master," replied the landlord of the Trumpeter, in a surly tone, for he did not much like the appearance of his customer; "just shut up shop. “I don’t care what any one thinks,” said Ann Veronica. All sorts of considerations come in. A disagreeable young man, with red hair and a loose mouth, seated at the reporter’s table, was only too manifestly sketching her. She leaped to a world of shabby knowledge, of furtive base realizations. As soon as he was gone, the two women divested themselves of their hoods and cloaks, and threw them, as if inadvertently, into the farthest part of the angle in the wall.
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