“Ann Veronica is looking very well, don’t you think?” he said, a little awkwardly. I told him instantly and shamelessly that the play was going to be worth ten thousand pounds. And this was an adventure of which he had dreamed from boyhood: aboard a windjammer on the South Seas. “He was a friend of your sister’s, was he not?” “I never heard her mention his name,” she answered. This was enough for the poor widow.
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