She lunched at a creamery in Great Portland Street, and as the day was full of wintry sunshine, spent the rest of the lunch-hour in a drowsy gloom, which she imagined to be thought upon the problems of her position, on a seat in Regent’s Park. “Most of it is ugly and frowsy,” she declared, “but it isn’t worth talking about. I don’t mean I’m not a good woman—I mean that I’m not a GOOD woman. As she talked, the drift and significance of what she was saying shaped itself slowly to Ann Veronica’s apprehension. I have to see if you carry any more weapons. At length the manager arrived; and together he and Ruth succeeded in getting some of the aromatic spirits of ammonia down the patient's throat.
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