He had been formally adopted by the Becks at the age of twelve. “We have to get in, I think,” said a nice little old lady in a bonnet to Ann Veronica, speaking with a voice that quavered a little. Sheila bellowed, a great wail of a sound from deep in her belly, flinging her tremendous weight towards him. "Is it indeed you, or am I dreaming?" "You're not dreaming, mother," he answered. ‘You mean that his missus is pretending to be my mistress? Lord-a-mercy!’ ‘Precisely.
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