Answering him was agonizing. She receded into the entryway, opening her palm and gesturing as if there were an imaginary red carpet rolled out for visitors. His eyes squeezed shut in ecstasy; he let out a sigh. But his daughter might well have a claim. He had not bothered to take off his raincoat and his umbrella sat dripping on his modern ice cube of a table. He was struck disagreeably by Ramage’s air of gallant consideration and Ann Veronica’s self-possessed answers. "Those chops, fried potatoes, and buttered toast. Ann Veronica’s appearance was brief and undistinguished.
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