He touched a long-standing sore, and Ann Veronica found herself vainly trying to explain—the inexplicable. If a cart were coming, or those labourers in the field had heard, escape was impossible. I had gone further than I meant to—with some Englishmen. Spurlock was basically a poet, quick to recognize beauty, animate or inanimate, and to transcribe it in unuttered words. ‘That there governess didn’t like it, of course, me being the lodgekeeper’s girl, and Martha just a country wench like me. “Then assuredly!” said Manning.
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