He had said so. Manning came into her thoughts again, an unexpected, tall, dark, self-contained presence at the Fadden. The life with which he had endued these sheets of paper began to beckon imperiously. It made me wake up, and there I lay thinking of you, spending your nights up here all alone, and no one to look after you. “That’s all very well when one isn’t the material experimented upon,” Ann Veronica had remarked.
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