That wrappered life, as you call it—we’ve burned the confounded rags! Danced out of it! We’re stark!” “Stark!” echoed Ann Veronica. Asking her way once or twice, she passed along Fleet Street into the Strand, and crossed Trafalgar Square, into Piccadilly. Every man in her life had betrayed her one way or another. Wild never was the associate of thieves. Don't be afraid.
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