The telegram reminded Ann Veronica that she had no place for interviews except her bed-sitting-room, and she sought her landlady and negotiated hastily for the use of the ground floor parlor, which very fortunately was vacant. ‘What in God’s name do you think you’re playing at?’ ‘Let me alone, man,’ Gerald muttered under his breath. I, too, want to understand—to walk with my head in the light. Stanley allowed his paper to drop a little, and scrutinized the hats and brows of their three fellow-travellers.
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