Tea in the laboratory was a sort of suffragette reception. ‘This journey I do not like,’ she said more loudly. Let’s go up to my room. Then a handkerchief was thrown over the cage, to prevent the bird from singing; it was her favourite canary. He was unusually absurd and ready, and all the time it seemed to Ann Veronica as a delightful possibility, as a thing not indeed to be entertained seriously, but to be half furtively felt, that he was being so agreeable because she had come back again.
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