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‘But there is something still I do not understand. That world of fine printed cambrics and escorted maidens, of delicate secondary meanings and refined allusiveness, presented itself to her imagination with the brightness of a lost paradise, as indeed for many women it is a lost paradise. ‘Suppose you don’t know what sort of proof she was after?’ he asked. You won't refuse me, I'm sure; so no more need be said about the matter. “Here we are,” he said, “shining through each other like light through a stained-glass window. It would have been better had he succeeded in murdering her, she thought. I wonder, Ann Veronica, if, when our time comes, we shall be any wiser?” Ann Veronica watched a water-beetle fussing across the green depths. She had to do her thinking at home—under inspection.
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This video was uploaded to waterscolumns.info on 28-09-2024 15:13:07