” He resumed, after a mouthful: “Here is a girl of sixteen or seventeen, seventeen and a half to be exact, running about, as one might say, in London. ” Miss Stanley rose and regarded Ann Veronica fixedly. “I came to London unexpectedly, and my friends could not take me in. Why shouldn’t we be martyrs? There’s nothing else for most of us, anyhow. D'ye hear. The Night-Cellar.
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