Promise me. Part 6 When Ann Veronica reached her little bed-sitting-room again, every nerve in her body was quivering with shame and self-disgust. But she did not listen long; she wanted to talk. I have tried not to tell you—tried to be simply your friend. “Next door,” said a spectacled young person of seventeen or eighteen, with an impatient indication of the direction. I've got to know why. ’ ‘That’s fortunate,’ murmured Lucilla.
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