It was not a difficult affair. “Hola Marteen!” She exclaimed cheerfully. In the adjacent apartment Ann Veronica found a middle-aged woman with a tired face under the tired hat she wore, sitting at a desk opening letters while a dusky, untidy girl of eight-or nine-and-twenty hammered industriously at a typewriter. ‘Parbleu, how you make me talk!’ ‘Your secret is safe with me, I promise you,’ Gerald said reassuringly.
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