’ ‘But it’s my affair, Melusine. Her heart swelled to suffocation. ’ She paused, struggling for the word. . She had in her suitcase a small scrapbook, only a few pages, what little information she had gathered on him through the years. The great ordeal—that which she had most dreaded—had proved to be no ordeal at all. It was hard to part with romance, but she had never thirsted so keenly to go on with her University work in her life as she did that day. ” “Couldn’t I make a treaty?” Ann Veronica thought, and could not see any possible treaty that would leave it open for her to have quasi-surreptitious dinners with Ramage or go on walking round the London squares discussing Socialism with Miss Miniver toward the small hours. Why, that boy could hide for thirty years—without the girl. She entered the kitchen.
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