And at last Ann Veronica and Miss Miniver came down the dark staircase and out into the foggy spaces of the London squares, and crossed Russell Square, Woburn Square, Gordon Square, making an oblique route to Ann Veronica’s lodging. So she said: “I won’t come home. "Perhaps you don't know that this Darrell so contrived matters, that your child should be mistaken for his own; by which means it had a narrow escape from a tight cravat, I can assure you. In a second the glass lay shattered upon the carpet. "Miss Enschede, you're seven kinds of a brick!" "A brick?" He chuckled.
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