As she talked, the drift and significance of what she was saying shaped itself slowly to Ann Veronica’s apprehension. There is the election——” He laughed derisively. Her concluding paragraph was, on the whole, perhaps, hardly starchy enough. There was no need of sowing suspicion when he wasn't really certain there were grounds for it. She would meet him upon this ground: he should never be given the slightest hint that she was unhappy. There were no doors in the bungalow; instead, there were curtains of strung bead and bamboo, always tinkling mysteriously. The houses loomed progressively larger as one strode up the block, growing from ranch to two-story, from squat 1950's modern to stately 1890's palace. While he was thus employed, his nerves underwent a severe shock. “You are not going out—this evening, I trust,” that lady asked, a trifle dismayed.
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