Ann Veronica had a number of fragmentary impressions of Alice strangely transfigured in bridal raiment. Suddenly the door of the flat opened and closed. ‘Gérard!’ ‘Yes, it’s I,’ he said, and grinned. He tugged at the overly large hooded sweatshirt, which she unzipped and let fall to the ground. But when she reached the pavement outside her teeth were clenched, and she carried herself unconsciously an inch or so higher. Thames, look the door.
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