After dinner Ann Veronica went into the drawing-room with Miss Stanley, and her father went up to his den for his pipe and pensive petrography. She found a clean sweatshirt and soft pajama pants, glad to trade the wet for the dry. He sprung out of the driver’s side and ran to her door. He did not know—and probably never would unless she told him—that it was very easy (and comfortable for a woman) to fall into slatternly ways in this latitude. He had shaved his side-whiskers and come over in flannels, but he was still indisputably the same person who had attended Ann Veronica for the measles and when she swallowed the fish-bone. Paris, romantizmle birlikte artık güzel kokan bir şehir haline geldi. If anyone noticed, he did not report the event.
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