“Who wouldn’t be for you?” The train began to move. “I don’t love him,” said Ann Veronica, getting a gleam. It's almost worth while being sent to prison to have the pleasure of escaping. She drifted, via Theobald’s Road, obliquely toward the region about Titchfield Street. On the walls were noticeboards bearing clusters of newspaper slips, three or four big posters of monster meetings, one of which Ann Veronica had attended with Miss Miniver, and a series of announcements in purple copying-ink, and in one corner was a pile of banners.
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