She should leave sooner, but she just could not bear missing the event. He moved, after quiet intervals, with a quick little movement, and ever and again stroked his small mustache and coughed a selfconscious cough. He touched a long-standing sore, and Ann Veronica found herself vainly trying to explain—the inexplicable. Annabel had taken her life into her hands with gay insouciance, had made her own friends, gone her own way.
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