The women, Ann Veronica thought, were not quite so interesting as the men. Don’t touch the handle, Annabel! Curse the thing, you’ve jammed it now. My heart would speak if it could, for it is very full. Ann Veronica’s experiences of men had been among more stable types—Teddy, who was always absurd; her father, who was always authoritative and sentimental; Manning, who was always Manning. She lifted her shoulders in an eloquent shrug. He never retires to rest till daybreak—if at all. " "Rely on me," rejoined Kneebone.
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