” “I will wait,” said Ann Veronica, still not looking at him, “and we will go into Regent’s Park. Instead had come this storm, this shouting, this weeping, this confusion of threats and irrelevant appeals. " He bent his head to his knees. My poor brain is so mixed, dear, I hardly know what I am saying. What little happiness I had I was forced to steal. He seemed to be trying to understand something very perplexing and elusive. A jar of pink roses upon a tiny table seemed to gain an extra delicacy of colour from the sombre curtains behind. They talked across their meal in an easy and friendly manner about Ann Veronica’s affairs.
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