There were no doors in the bungalow; instead, there were curtains of strung bead and bamboo, always tinkling mysteriously. “I wouldn’t. He was there concealed, waiting her return. And at last Ann Veronica and Miss Miniver came down the dark staircase and out into the foggy spaces of the London squares, and crossed Russell Square, Woburn Square, Gordon Square, making an oblique route to Ann Veronica’s lodging.
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