” He fumed. We sha’n’t hang up on any misunderstanding. “You belong to me,” he said fiercely; “the marriage certificate is in my pocket. ” He read it in winter in the evening after dinner, and Ann Veronica associated it with a tendency to monopolize the lamp, and to spread a very worn pair of dappled fawn-skin slippers across the fender. If I’m late again I’ll have to serve another detention!” She excused herself, hoping it was not too obvious she was running away.
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