Darrell. What gave the puzzling twist to an ordinary situation was her manner: she was guileless. Coldly she spoke, in a distinctly accented voice. She savored the sweetness of his lips, all of his great youth and passion and longed for his innocence, his complete lack of the knowledge of terrible things. Ann Veronica, with a sigh at the cost of hospitality, made a hasty negotiation for an extra tea and for a fire in the groundfloor apartment, and preened herself carefully for the interview. We were alike. “Quite particularly nice,” said her aunt.
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