Spurling, who had been hastily compounding another bowl of punch. “You see,” said Ann Veronica, staring before her at the window-sash, “that’s the form my question takes at the present time. They were horrible people. She went on her way now no longer dreaming and appreciative, but disturbed and unwillingly observant behind her mask of serene contentment. That she possessed any sense of humour was in itself one of those human miracles which metaphysicians are always pothering over without arriving anywhere; for her previous environment had been particularly humourless.
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