” “Couldn’t I make a treaty?” Ann Veronica thought, and could not see any possible treaty that would leave it open for her to have quasi-surreptitious dinners with Ramage or go on walking round the London squares discussing Socialism with Miss Miniver toward the small hours. Her face reminded him of a delicate unglazed porcelain cup, filled with blond wine. He well knows that but two lives—those of Thames Darrell and Sir Rowland Trenchard,—stand between you and the vast possessions of the family. She wants that and needs it more than anything else in the world. . ” He rose from his chair, and walked restlessly up and down the room.
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