Perhaps it was loneliness. ” “It is Number 8, Cavendish Square,” she answered simply. For her pride’s sake, and to save herself from long day-dreams and an unappeasable longing for her lover, Ann Veronica worked hard at her biology during those closing weeks. The man pulled up his horse grumbling, and turned round. Hill again—alive. There was no sense in creating further difficulties for herself by arguing with the sergeant over her identity. Her depression since the “accident” had possessed her, she no longer cared how she looked as her beauty helped her not.
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