” He said to her. “Why do you hate me again, my love?” He seemed to brighten, feeding upon the intensity of her emotion. “I came to London,” said Ann Veronica, “rather because of my own difficulty. Just as they reached the eastern outlet of the churchyard— where the tall elms cast a pleasant shade over the rustic graves—a momentary stoppage took place. She tightened her bandage and sat back, biting her lip. At length the task was done, and she jabbed the needle into a cushion, folded the coat, and rose. Her mother tried to soothe her with tales of romance and love, of all the fineries that she would enjoy in the Palazzo, but all Lucia could do was cry until her cheeks twitched and her forehead ached. ‘Why, you have heard yourself all that is being said. “I think,” she said, “that I rather like what you have said.
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