It was, Ann Veronica felt, as a sip or so of that remarkable blend warmed her blood, just the sort of thing that her aunt would not approve, to be lunching thus, tete-a-tete with a man; and yet at the same time it was a perfectly innocent as well as agreeable proceeding. Looked all over that dratted convent of yours—or at least Trodger and the men did so—but no sign of them. “Beats me. C below.
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