” She said. If you were a poet in need of rhymes, you
had only to turn to a certain page. “Let us walk round to Covent Garden,” he suggested. “Wonderful man!” said Ann Veronica, reassured, and stroking his cheek with
her finger. I MUST. ‘I thought it must be you,’ cried the woman. Any man
might have endeavoured to protect himself in this fashion, a man with no one to
care, with an unnameable terror at the thought (as if it mattered!) of being buried
in alien earth, far from the familiar places he loved. May I come
home and try to be a better daughter to you?
“ANN VERONICA. ”
“But what did father imagine?”
“Of course he imagined! Any one would! ‘What has happened, Peter?’ I
asked. Miss Stanley walked round the garden thinking, and presently house
and garden reverberated to Ann Veronica’s slamming of the front door. Jackson’s. A man has more freedom to do evil than a woman. She was
dressed as English girls do dress for town, without either coquetry or harshness:
her collarless blouse confessed a pretty neck, her eyes were bright and steady,
and her dark hair waved loosely and graciously over her ears.
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This video was uploaded to damaulifm.org on 01-07-2024 15:53:53