He remembered little whispered speeches of hers, so like the Annabel of Paris, so unlike the woman he loved, a hundred little things should have told him long ago. No matter what the fire and force of his passion, it falters eventually, and forever after smoulders or goes out. ” “I will wait,” said Ann Veronica, still not looking at him, “and we will go into Regent’s Park. He was a stranger.
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