“We pretend bodies are ugly. But never mind that," said McClintock grinning as he drew the dish of bread-fruit toward him. “Ever yours, “ANNABEL. If she had any idea at all, it was something she dimly recalled from her books: something celestially beautiful, with a happy ending. “By God! Ann Veronica,” he said, sighing deeply. They decided quite audibly, “She’s an Old Dear, anyhow. I must tell somebody—and you would understand. It was an intimate smell, the unmistakable scent of him and another woman. "At the bottom of that big envelope I found this one.
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