” “Then how have you managed?” “Bother!” said Ann Veronica to herself, and tried not to look guilty. The tree-lined streets were silent except for the sporadic revving of glass packs down Church Avenue. The birds were singing blithely amid the trees,—the lowing of the cows resounded from the yard,—a delicious perfume from the garden was wafted through the open window,—at a distance, the church-bells of Willesden were heard tolling for evening service. ‘I’ve finished me report, sir,’ Trodger said aggrievedly. " "Here's a pocket-book full of notes, and a heavy bag of gold," said Blueskin, examining the articles on the floor. To wait for hours and hours for the night! The sea empty for days! You forgot the monotony, the endless monotony, that bends you and breaks you and crushes you—you forgot that!" Her voice had steadily risen until it was charged with passionate anger. Nice position. He probably imagines himself to be a thousand times worse off than he actually is.
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