CHAPTER XXIII. And nearly all these things were fearfully ill-paid. To the Seven Cities of Refuge Jack proceeded. “He wants me to have dinner at his parent’s house
tonight,” still looking at a series of spots on the carpeting. What hotel should she go to? If she told a
cabman to drive to an hotel, any hotel, what would he do—or say? He might
drive to something dreadfully expensive, and not at all the quiet sort of thing she
required. . . ”
“Of course not,” Anna said. ‘Never would he have gone to England. This light did not remain stationary, but could be seen at one moment
glimmering through the rents in the roof, and at another shining through the
cracks in the wall, or the broken panes of the casement. What isn’t
a day-dream is this: that you and I are going to put an end to flummery—and
go!”
“Go!” said Ann Veronica, clenching her hands.
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