The telegram reminded Ann Veronica that she had no place for interviews except her bed-sitting-room, and she sought her landlady and negotiated hastily for the use of the ground floor parlor, which very fortunately was vacant. The trader you spoke about: he disliked your father, didn't he? Well, he probably played your father a horrible practical joke. He saw it in book-covers, on the stage. His smile faded. She stared down at them from a high window, peering down at their moonlit faces in the bed heavy with furs, the same bed where she had given birth to Gianfrancesco’s dead son. Good heavens! She was discussing love-making. I tell you I’m Meysey Hill, the railway man. "But, perhaps, he has not got beyond the room above. He can't be far off. Ennison kicked it away with his foot. They got to go home and eat Campbell’s Chicken Soup.
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