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. "Ah! Owen Wood, is it you?" cried David in astonishment. "In this pit," he added, pointing to the chasm below, "your brother is buried. That dress is thirty years old, if a day.
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