He had no use for Ann Veronica; he had never had a use for her since she had been too old to sit upon his knee. The very carts and vans and cabs that Wellington Street poured out incessantly upon the bridge seemed ripe and good in her eyes. To be sure, he was attentive, respectful; but in his conduct there was none of that shameless camaraderie of a man who loved his woman and didn't care a hang if all the world knew it. “I wonder—I wonder if we shall ever get like that.
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