I felt—wrapped in thick cobwebs. She never questioned the motives of the characters; she had neither the ability nor the conceit for that; but she could and often did correct his lapses in colour. He loved you. Ann Veronica stood in the twilight room staring at the door that had slammed upon her aunt, her pocket-handkerchief rolled tightly in her hand. Oh, the scent of the flowers that day, the delicious quiet, the swallows that dived before us in the river. At any rate, I can see that you’re not protecting him at all.
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