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Stanley, and was so evidently pleased that Ann Veronica’s heart smote her. And you’re as clean as fire. I am too weak to aid you. 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. The whole of that relationship persisted in remaining obscure. The thought caused him an odd kind of pang—of pity, naturally. “Cheveney wouldn’t have anything to say about it, as it happens,” he remarked, a little grimly.
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