My late husband, I mean. “You know,” he muttered, “you know quite well that your troubles are far more likely to weigh upon me than my own. Are you going to write a novel?” “Not I,” she answered gaily. . “I’ve got—I have to tell you this to make myself clear—a streak of ardent animal in my composition. Ann Veronica looked bright and a little elated, and she disregarded her father’s invitation to be seated. And we men would work for them and serve them in loyal fealty.
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