“But why is it preposterous?” asked Ann Veronica, and fiddled with a pipe on the mantel. He had been dreaming of Ruth—an old recurrency of that dream he had had in Canton, of Ruth leading him to the top of the mountain. “Come to my rooms and have a drink. The houses on Snow Hill were thronged, like those in Old Bailey. ’ ‘Ain’t you in a rage?’ asked the captain. I wonder if some of them did—and it didn’t get reported. ’ ‘Then who is this Englishman?’ demanded Gerald on a sceptical note.
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