Ann Veronica watched him from the dining-room window, and after some moments of maidenly hesitation rambled out into the garden in a reverse direction to Mr. For a long time she surveyed a row of towering holly-hocks, as though they offered an explanation. ” It was, Ann Veronica felt, at once absurd and extraordinarily right. Here was Ruth Enschede—sick of love! Love—something the world would always keep hidden from her, at least human love. When I absorb a fact, my brain weighs the fact carefully and stores it away.
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