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In this way, they reached Holborn Bridge. “You, too,” he said abruptly. He wore a French military undress of the period, with high jack-boots, and a laced hat; and, though his attire indicated no particular rank, he had completely the air of a person of distinction. Michelle sat on her bed, which emanated scents of powdered laundry detergent and Sweet Honesty perfume. None of the things they said and did were altogether new to Ann Veronica, but now she got them massed and alive, instead of by glimpses or in books—alive and articulate and insistent. “I suppose my levity is incorrigible.
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