Ann Veronica sat firelit by her tea-tray with, quite unconsciously, the air of an expert hostess. This I have sworn to do—this I will do. She looked at the white ankle socks on her feet and was reminded simultaneously of her pajama outfit and the suitcase that still lay underneath the bed. Jonathan, however, was nowhere to be seen. It wasn’t so much women as Woman that engaged his mind. He's down in Patagonia somewhere. “And now tell me, please, how you eloped from Morningside Park. Hey.
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