” “There’s green-fly,” admitted Ann Veronica. Her time and effort was justly rewarded, because the hard cold facts she knew about neighborhood intrigues were better than fictional soap operas. ” “Some little tiff?” “No; but I don’t think I shall see them. In the adjacent apartment Ann Veronica found a middle-aged woman with a tired face under the tired hat she wore, sitting at a desk opening letters while a dusky, untidy girl of eight-or nine-and-twenty hammered industriously at a typewriter. But you need not fear,’ she added, shaking him off.
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