Then one old crone, short-sighted and shaky-handed, called Ann Veronica “dearie,” and made some remark, obscure and slangy, of which the spirit rather than the words penetrated to her understanding. I'm one of those unfortunate duffers who have too much imagination—the kind who build their own chimeras and then run away from them. “Oh no, you’re breaking up with me, aren’t you?” “No Julian.
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