White gasped, and then stiffened. He seemed to stay away from her because she was so cold and formal towards him, addressing him as Mister McCloskey as if she were an Irish maid. “What makes you ask such a question, Vee?” she said. ” “There’s green-fly,” admitted Ann Veronica. ‘Comment? This is not a mirror!’ It was a portrait. I often think of those delightful evenings in Paris.
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