She walked back to the car. Her eyes were lit with a gleam of humour. The Ragged Edge. . “I suppose there’s no way of getting a decent income—independently. Ann Veronica stood in the twilight room staring at the door that had slammed upon her aunt, her pocket-handkerchief rolled tightly in her hand. Then, one night, he glanced up to behold Ruth and Rollo in the doorway. But the survey was satisfactory, and she found herself presently in Room No. How does one get work? She walked along the Strand and across Trafalgar Square, and by the Haymarket to Piccadilly, and so through dignified squares and palatial alleys to Oxford Street; and her mind was divided between a speculative treatment of employment on the one hand, and breezes—zephyr breezes—of the keenest appreciation for London, on the other.
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