“You understand, then,” he was saying, “you understand?” “I understand,” said Ann Veronica, tear-wet and flushed with a reciprocal passion, but standing up to him with an equality that amazed even herself, “I understand. He touched it again, and this time it was not withdrawn. “Good evening, Dorling,” he said. Get on, do. He had a quick, shrewd, merry eye, and a look in which duplicity was agreeably veiled by good humour.
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