‘Tee-ree-sa. It is the horse of the priest, you understand, and—and he does not know that I have borrowed it. Not only that, but he is here in London. Miss Stanley threw aside a black cloak to reveal a discreet and dignified arrangement of brown silk, and then embraced Ann Veronica with warmth. He was in evening dress: swallow-tailed coat and white tie. I did think it could be done. “Gods,” she said, at last, “I’ve done it this time!” “Well!” She took up the neat morocco purse, opened it, and examined the contents. First, look at this glove.
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