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. It was as if her aesthetic sense had become inflamed. Women never throw themselves into each other's arms; they calculate the distance and the damage perfectly. Only her face was clear, frail and delicate, almost flower-like, with the sad haunting eyes ever watching his. It takes too many years to climb even a step in the social ladder. She visited the corner that had been her own little garden—her forget-me-nots and candytuft had long since been elbowed into insignificance by weeds; she visited the raspberry-canes that had sheltered that first love affair with the little boy in velvet, and the greenhouse where she had been wont to read her secret letters. ” “I do it—of my own free will,” said Ann Veronica, kissing his hand again. I had to sell out, you see, when my father died, for the estate is in my hands. ‘I would read your body,’ he whispered, and lifted her fingers to his lips. It'll be advertised to-morrow.
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