ToC London, at the period of this history, boasted only a single bridge. It was, Ann Veronica felt, as a sip or so of that remarkable blend warmed her blood, just the sort of thing that her aunt would not approve, to be lunching thus, tete-a-tete with a man; and yet at the same time it was a perfectly innocent as well as agreeable proceeding. It was free of leering men, unthinkable punishments, and human evil. A pity you did not think to tell me that part of the tale at the outset. "Where is my mother?" he added, regarding the knight with a searching glance. .
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