The joy of being loved thrilled her as nothing before had ever done, a curious abstract joy which had nothing in it at that moment of regret or even pity. It was better even than the hymn-singing. “No you don’t!” said Ann Veronica, and walked out at a brisk and businesslike pace toward the house. So I asks the maid a few questions like, and it seems it ain’t Mister Charvill they’re going to visit again, but General Charvill. Anna opened a cupboard and produced cups and saucers and a tin of coffee.
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