There were seven tales in all—short stories—a method of expression quite strange to her, after the immense canvases of Dickens and Hugo. And at last Ann Veronica and Miss Miniver came down the dark staircase and out into the foggy spaces of the London squares, and crossed Russell Square, Woburn Square, Gordon Square, making an oblique route to Ann Veronica’s lodging. ” An awkward moment of silence followed. Only I am not an acquaintance at all. Lost me place, that’s all.
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