Then he would turn his face to her, and she would have to think of herself in his eyes. “Would YOU like us—if some one told you the bare outline of our story?— and what we are doing?” “I shouldn’t mind,” said Ann Veronica. The thought passed through his mind even as he started to cross the terrace at a jogtrot, moving to head her off. The recollection of the forlorn and loveless years—stirred into consciousness by the unexpected confrontation—bent her as the high wind bends the water-reed.
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