“He couldn’t look me in the face and say it,” said Ann Veronica. She pulled away from him, placing her fingers on his lips for a moment. “I hope,” said Miss Stanley, with dignity, and turned doorward with features in civil warfare. He felt that he was getting on with her very slowly indeed, but he did not see how he could get on faster. These dinners, from their lavish display of ambiguous hors d’oeuvre to their skimpy ices in dishes of frilled paper, with their Chianti flasks and Parmesan dishes and their polyglot waiters and polyglot clientele, were very funny and bright; and she really liked Ramage, and valued his help and advice.
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