9. ” They left the restaurant just as the rain slowed to a dull trickle, the fury of the storm exhausted, having left mirror puddles in its wake. But, by Jove! you are fierce! You are like those Roman women who carry stilettos in their hair. “I saw his face in a mirror. “You may call anytime. At the recollection that it was his, she seemed to fall through a thin surface, as one might fall through the crust of a lava into glowing depths. Whatever anticipation Ann Veronica had formed of this vanished in the reality. Pottiswick’s daughter found her tongue. The houses were older, the shops gloomier, and the thoroughfare narrower, it is true; but the bustle, the crowd, the street-like air was the same. " "A secret!" exclaimed Trenchard. Presently. You know the sort of thing.
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