He was a little impressed by Ann Veronica’s metaphor of the string, which, indeed, she owed to Hetty Widgett. ‘How she pouted, and tried to make out that she had been imposed upon. He took a handful of almonds and raisins that she held out to him—for both these young people had given up the practice of going out for luncheon—and kept her hand for a moment to kiss her finger-tips. And now YOU’RE on the war-path. This time you cannot. One doesn’t want to lose a grain. She felt sticky and ashamed when he dropped her off a block away from the McCloskey house as she had requested.
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