“You!” said Ann Veronica. She sat there, a mark for boulevarders, the unconscious object of numberless wondering glances. "You will make me the happiest of mankind," cried the woollen-draper, falling on his knees, and seizing her hand, which he devoured with kisses. Then her white teeth gleamed, and her excuse for remaining any longer before that little marble table was gone. Moored to the steps, several wherries were dancing in the rushing current, as if impatient of restraint. She taught him all the lore she had; about bird-life and tree-life and the changing mysteries of the sea. She could hardly remember his face except for his brown hair, thick lips, and narrow dark eyes.
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