The very old lady in the antimacassar touched Ann Veronica’s arm suddenly, and said, in a deep, arch voice: “Talking of love again; spring again, love again. Gay, by his strokes of pleasantry, whether in his writings or conversation, never lost a friend. That is, if Spurlock had been throwing money about, which was more than likely. Soot was everywhere, for the lamp would not stay trimmed in the gale.
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