Ann Veronica brought her luggage in a cab from the hotel; she tipped the hotel porter sixpence and overpaid the cabman eighteenpence, unpacked some of her books and possessions, and so made the room a little homelike, and then sat down in a by no means uncomfortable arm-chair before the fire. Depend upon it, there is a place for you—waiting. And this great mellow place, this London, now was hers, to struggle with, to go where she pleased in, to overcome and live in. You must wait till supper's over.
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