The blow had brought him back to the realm of sober thought. Balanced on his nose were enormous tortoise-shell spectacles. Gay, I've been in many odd quarters of our city—have visited haunts frequented only by thieves—the Old Mint, the New Mint, the worst part of St. I’ve bored you or something. He came in apologetically; all the old “Well, and how ARE we?” note gone; and once he asked Ann Veronica, almost furtively, “How’s Alice getting on, Vee?” Finally, on the Day, he appeared like his old professional self transfigured, in the most beautiful light gray trousers Ann Veronica had ever seen and a new shiny silk hat with a most becoming roll. Wrenching his hands from her shoulders, she thrust them away and leapt up from the chair.
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