He returned, blue towel in hand. Her heart failed her and her resolution became water. “I’m fine,” she said softly. She sat in a chair in the parlour and regarded the darkening sky through the small casement window. He smothered a laugh. The very old lady in the antimacassar touched Ann Veronica’s arm suddenly, and said, in a deep, arch voice: “Talking of love again; spring again, love again. "I have not many days,—perhaps, not many hours to live. For now, I fear there is something worse, something more present.
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