” Sir John coughed. We can’t afford to turn our women, our Madonnas, our Saint Catherines, our Mona Lisas, our goddesses and angels and fairy princesses, into a sort of man. Her heartbeat quickened. “Earning a salary!” “You’re like a Princess in Exile!” he repeated, overruling her. Ann Veronica had come down thinking of nothing in the world but her inflexible resolution to go to the dance in the teeth of all opposition. "Caught!" shouted the head-turnkey.
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