Wood, whose admiration for masculine beauty was by no means abated, glanced at the well-proportioned figure of the young man, and made him a very civil salutation. “I should imagine,” he said, shaking out a copy of The Times, “that it is your brain which is addled. He talked about his driver's license, how he would soon inherit his older brother's BMW. Stanley, and was so evidently pleased that Ann Veronica’s heart smote her. I’ve got a streak of male. He had been back for two weeks during some pleasant weather in July.
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