You Ann Veronica?” “Rather! I say—did you marry Gwen?” “Yes. “And what on earth,” he said, “do you think the world is made of? Why do you think I have been doing things for you? The abstract pleasure of goodness? Are you one of the members of that great white sisterhood that takes and does not give? The good accepting woman! Do you really suppose a girl is entitled to live at free quarters on any man she meets without giving any return?” “I thought,” said Ann Veronica, “you were my friend. "Oh, lud! what's that?" exclaimed a female voice, from an adjoining room. “Excuse me a moment. Michelle’s eyes were red and bloodshot. You shall swing for this after next sessions, or my name's not Jonathan Wild. This was no night for the indulgence of dreamy musing. The man looked as though he would have liked to deny it, but could not. “But—your people!” she gasped.
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