“G. But some day she would find a place to love: there would be rosy apples on the boughs, and there would be flurries of snow blowing into her face. You are not playing to-night, are you?” “Not to-night,” she answered. Ramage leaned over the gate at Ann Veronica’s side, and for a moment there was silence. They carried no more than bare subsistence wages; and they demanded all her time and energy.
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