A black silk furbelowed scarf covered her shoulders; and over the kincob gown hung a yellow satin apron, trimmed with white Persian. Ann Veronica wondered what her father would do if she were to tell him the full story of her relations with Ramage. By the time she was done, the bodies in the bathtub were gathering flies. They compromised at length on the science course at the Tredgold Women’s College—she had already matriculated into London University from school—she came of age, and she bickered with her aunt for latch-key privileges on the strength of that and her season ticket. "Stay, dear Thames!—stay!" cried the little girl. “This is not every day. Was this the right moment? After what she had said about Jarvis Remenham’s habits, he could do with more information before he revealed his purpose. Little did I imagine at the time that it was my own father to whom he referred.
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