” “Couldn’t I make a treaty?” Ann Veronica thought, and could not see any possible treaty that would leave it open for her to have quasi-surreptitious dinners with Ramage or go on walking round the London squares discussing Socialism with Miss Miniver toward the small hours. His scent was like sweet perfume in her state, like the sweet smell of infants. The girl in the forward chair raised herself a little, the better to see the gorgeous blue palanquin of the dimly visible bride.
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