“You’re not a virgin, are you?” It was as much an accusation as a question. In addition to the various business men, solicitors, civil servants, and widow ladies who lived in the Morningside Park Avenue, there was a certain family of alien sympathies and artistic quality, the Widgetts, with which Ann Veronica had become very friendly. It was in the quiet streets and squares toward Oxford Street that it first came into her head disagreeably that she herself was being followed.
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