. “You see,” she said, very gently, “I AM going. This person—this Jonathan Wild, whom I beheld for the first time, scarcely an hour ago, in Wych Street, is—I know not why—my enemy. The question ceased to be a tea-table talk, and became suddenly tragically real for Ann Veronica. Wood, popping her head through the window. . “Frightful lot of things aren’t settled,” said Ann Veronica.
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