" "Ah! Sometimes I wonder I don't run amok and kill someone," said the Wastrel, in broken English. With a swirl of her floral chintz petticoats, she placed herself in the capacious window seat, accepted the glass Gerald handed to her, and smiled mischievously up at him. A knot of three policemen in conflict with her staggered toward Ann Veronica’s attendants and distracted their attention. These joyful bounds just lace into the stuff of my memories and stay there forever. Aralarındaki bağ, daha da derinleşti.
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