Spurlock, filled with self-mockery, sat in a chair on the west veranda. “You are talking like a boy. ‘So are you. The houses overhung in a frightful manner, and looked as if the next gust would precipitate them into the river. She was civil, but she was obviously impatient to know his errand. The room behind was another small antechamber, presumably linking the back rooms. Ann Veronica realized that she was alone with the world.
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