“What are your objections?” she said. One or two landladies refused her with an air of conscious virtue that she found hard to explain. “TROUSERS!” she whispered. I rarely set foot in London these days. Pramlay received them in the pretty chintz drawing-room, which opened by French windows on the trim garden, with its croquet lawn, its tennis-net in the middle distance, and its remote rose alley lined with smart dahlias and flaming sunflowers. ” “Everything goes well with me,” he said, folding his arms under him and regarding Ann Veronica with the slightly projecting eyes wide open. “Shit happens, John.
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