Ann Veronica had come down thinking of nothing in the world but her inflexible resolution to go to the dance in the teeth of all opposition. She patted John's head with her palm, its surface appealingly fuzzy. She had a better voice than I, and the rest I suppose is only a trick. Immeasurable disgust possessed her. Sir John heard gossip about us—about Anna the recluse, a paragon of virtue, and Annabel alias ‘Alcide’ a dancer at the cafés chantants, and concerning whom there were many stories which were false, and a few—which were true.
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