Stanley, having pretended to linger to smoke, fled suddenly up-stairs to petrography, and when Veronica tapped he answered through the locked door, “Go away, Vee! I’m busy,” and made a lapidary’s wheel buzz loudly. ‘His granddaughter?’ ‘Yes, his son’s daughter. Loans will just ruin my life because I need so many of them. “The young women of Jane Austen’s time didn’t get into this sort of scrape! At least—one thinks so.
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