Her normally shiny hair was 143 stringy and flat. “It’s the stir of spring,” he said. To a woman she might have confided; but to this man, kindly as he was, it was unthinkable. He slapped his knee. He forgot for the moment his own self-pity, the egotism of his own passionate love. “But who’s going to pay for the room?” “I’ve got money,” said Ann Veronica. He looked melancholy enough, it is true.
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