IX. 1. Still, he was puzzled because McClintock had not spoken. Great vistas of history opened, and she and her aunt were near reverting to the primitive and passionate and entirely indecorous arboreal—were swinging from branches by the arms, and really going on quite dreadfully—when their arrival at the Palsworthys’ happily checked this play of fancy, and brought Ann Veronica back to the exigencies of the wrappered life again. “Oh, Veronica!” she said, “to leave your home!” She had been weeping. Ramage, I came here—I didn’t suppose for one moment you would dare —” “Nonsense! That is your mistake! You are too intellectual. You cannot—shall not retreat. It was years before your time.
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