Why ever did you let me get into that wagonette?” “I thought we had to,” said Ann Veronica, who had also been a little under the compulsion of the marshals of the occasion. You know very well that you took from my easel David Courtlaw’s study of me, and sent it to Cariolus. “Won’t you sit down,” she said, “and tell me what you want to say?” Her voice was flat and faint. You do not need my compliments.
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