” She had not, she reflected, remembered how prominent his eyes were. “I don’t care,” said Ann Veronica to the darkness; “I’ll fight it. Rubbishy novels and pernicious rascals. Looked all over that dratted convent of yours—or at least Trodger and the men did so—but no sign of them. Remarking that they struck off at a turning on the left, he took the same road, and soon found himself on Paddington-Green.
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