Martin came to the stage from his section, his own violin in hand. “Well,” she said. ” She was silent, and in the gloom of the dimly lit apartment he could not see her face. “The very question, my dear sister,” she said, “tells me that I have succeeded. What hotel should she go to? If she told a cabman to drive to an hotel, any hotel, what would he do—or say? He might drive to something dreadfully expensive, and not at all the quiet sort of thing she required. From the first, Ann Veronica found him an exceptionally interesting man. .
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