"Come out!" roared Quilt, looking into the aperture. Ann Veronica was one of the few young people—and one must have young people just as one must have flowers—one could ask to a little gathering without the risk of a painful discord. ‘What?’ ‘Nothing,’ snapped Roding, with an odd look at his bride to be that Gerald could not interpret. She took it for granted Ann Veronica wore stays—mild stays, perhaps, but stays, and thought no more of the matter. "Manuscripts! Why, this chap is a writer, or is trying to be. I didn’t believe him and I said so.
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