” The cabman, knocking with the butt end of his whip upon the window, reminded her that he was in a similar predicament. He was a square-faced man of nearly fifty, with iron-gray hair a mobile, cleanshaven mouth and rather protuberant black eyes that now scrutinized Ann Veronica. She laughed as the deluge seemed to grow worse with every step. There were always parrots and parrakeets screaming in the fruit groves.
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