Presently he heard her voice. It ran in rivulets down her face, penetrating her hood and the thick quilting of her coat. Cars rushed by on the street, swerving into the middle of the two lane road to avoid the knee-deep puddles forming around sewer grates. He did not particularly care. She could hear him from the lower floor as he locked the gates and drew up the wooden part of the bridge. Then one old crone, short-sighted and shaky-handed, called Ann Veronica “dearie,” and made some remark, obscure and slangy, of which the spirit rather than the words penetrated to her understanding. It seemed to her that it was her duty to get up and clamor to go home to her room, to protest against his advances as an insult. ” “Certainly,” Mrs.
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