For a second time Ann Veronica wanted to swear at the universe. “It’s odd,” said Ann Veronica, re-entering the flat. Already she missed all of her fine things, her linens and leather bound books. At once. The little grating in the door, the sense of constant inspection, worried her. He had adroitly captured her and led her away from her other guests on the pretext of feigning an interest in her charitable attitude to the newly arrived French. The hope that had been suddenly kindled in the youth's bosom was as suddenly extinguished. The key is in my trousers. The odour of coconut prevailed, delicately but abidingly; for, save for the occasioned pleasure junket, The Tigress was a copra carrier, shell and fibre. "You base ingrate," she added, in a whisper, as she flounced past Mr.
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