“It is true,” he said, “that I was dining last night at a restaurant in the Boulevard des Italiennes, and it is true that my companion was a young lady whose name is Pellissier. Stanley decided to treat that as irrelevant. They drove up into Paris in an open fiacre with a soft cool wind blowing in their faces, hand in hand beneath the rug. “But if you weren’t keen on the suffrage business, why on earth did you go to prison?” Ann Veronica reflected. It was as if her aesthetic sense had become inflamed. She recoiled. ’ ‘No, you are a gentleman,’ she agreed. . Perhaps Ferringhall has pensioned her off.
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