’ ‘But you don’t look anything like her,’ burst out Mrs Ibstock. She remembered that she had not gone to bed until two o'clock in the morning. She had the same sharp nose—which, indeed, only Ann Veronica, of all the family, had escaped. Ennison, if at all,” Anna declared calmly. It was comforting to have her there, snoring gently. Reverse psychology or something, it’s like she was trying to draw him nearer by pushing him away. This was number 13, Montague Street, familiarly spoken of in the neighbourhood as “White’s. The door was opened for her by a weary-looking youth in a striped jacket several sizes too large for him.
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