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. "You forgot your lunch," she said. ‘No, Melusine. ‘You ought to be glad someone cares enough about your wretched little neck to try and save it. She leaned forward, her chin in her palms, her elbows on her knees, and she set her gaze upon his face and kept it there in dreamy contemplation.
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