Loneliness. Miss Stanley reflected on this proposal for a moment. Ann Veronica was not ready enough to deal with that counter-stroke. No lights were flashing, and a single squad car was not a cause for alert, as sometimes the Becks allowed squads to use their drive to watch for speeders and other reckless drivers. The big gray spaces of London, the shop-lit, greasy, shining streets, had become very remote; the biological laboratory with its work and emotions, the meetings and discussions, the rides in hansoms with Ramage, were like things in a book read and closed. She would lure him, as he was an easily tempted child predator who could even more easily be turned into prey. " "Let me see. It was a letter. A curious silence ensued. ” “Couldn’t I make a treaty?” Ann Veronica thought, and could not see any possible treaty that would leave it open for her to have quasi-surreptitious dinners with Ramage or go on walking round the London squares discussing Socialism with Miss Miniver toward the small hours. She could run away from him, if she wished, as she had run away from her father; she could carry out the original adventure.
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