Ah Cum was not a sailor, but he knew his water-front. It was a cheerful, irresponsible, shamelessly hard-up family in the key of faded green and flattened purple, and the girls went on from the High School to the Fadden Art School and a bright, eventful life of art student dances, Socialist meetings, theatre galleries, talking about work, and even, at intervals, work; and ever and again they drew Ann Veronica from her sound persistent industry into the circle of these experiences. One learns to sit up. His advice was mostly practical. “Have you heard things?” The tears stood in her eyes.
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