There was nothing to be got out of the man. 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. The owner of this dress had a broad weather-beaten face, small twinkling eyes, and a bushy, grizzled beard. "Begone! or I fire!" he cried. She looked at her for a moment fixedly.
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