To-night she could have hugged both the old maids. We stepped from the Embassy into the motor—and oh! I thought that he was dead. She spoke slowly. “This is MY thing,” said Ann Veronica, softly, with thoughtful eyes upon him. The galleries adjoining it were crowded with spectators,—so was the roof of a large tavern, then the only house standing at the end of the Edgeware Road,—so were the trees,—the walls of Hyde Park,—a neighbouring barn, a shed,—in short, every available position.
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