Ann Veronica was one of the few young people—and one must have young people just as one must have flowers—one could ask to a little gathering without the risk of a painful discord. She heard his voice screaming her name into the twilight as she fled, his cries trailing like banners, weaving through the breeze that had begun to gently stir the dew on the ground. Until that moment, Jarvis had imagined the child to be safe in the wet-nurse’s cottage. Earles, but it is a good one.
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