“It’s no sort of good, Ann Veronica, pretending one does believe when one doesn’t. ” “You know, Mr. ’ ‘Yes, but if it is only we that know, it is of no use at all to me. ” “I do it—of my own free will,” said Ann Veronica, kissing his hand again. Wood was dressed with more than ordinary care, and in more than ordinary finery. She could still remember his face, the perpetually wet lips that turned down at the sides, his drooping Roman eyes. Not for me.
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