” “I wish,” said Ann Veronica, with sudden anger, “that you could know what it is to live in a pit!” She stood up as she spoke, and put down her cup beside Miss Garvice’s. The air was sweet with the perfume of flowers, and the melody of murmuring insects, the blue sky was cloudless, the heat of the sun was tempered by the heather-scented west wind. While I am talking about your friends, I feel—I think you ought to know how I look at it.
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