She told the porter to take it to the booking-office, and it was only after a disconcerting moment or so that she found she ought to have directed him to go to the cloak-room. The fact itself is regrettable enough—regrettable, I fear, is quite an inadequate word. Afterward, one afternoon, he hovered about her, and came and sat beside her and talked of beauty and the riddle of beauty for some time. She dismissed the whole subject with a little shrug of the shoulders. “Heavens!” exclaimed Ann Veronica, with extraordinary passion.
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