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I asked him to take me away, and hide me. He worked afternoons, when everybody else went to sleep; he worked at night under a heat-giving light, with insects buzzing and dropping about, with a blue haze of tobacco smoke that tried to get out and could not. I was one of the few. “Why do you hate me again, my love?” He seemed to brighten, feeding upon the intensity of her emotion. It would have been a crisis anyhow, but it was complicated in Ann Veronica’s mind by the fact that a letter lay on the breakfast-table from Mr. “I suppose you could at least tune it for us if you know how to play. You have actually given up a dinner-party to dine alone with me.
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