The telegram reminded Ann Veronica that she had no place for interviews except her bed-sitting-room, and she sought her landlady and negotiated hastily for the use of the ground floor parlor, which very fortunately was vacant. “I think we’ve exhausted this discussion,” she said. And I’ve read, and thought, and guessed, and looked—until MY innocence—it’s smirched. “I was sick of the make-believe.
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