” The topic of his invalid wife bored him, and he turned at once to Ann Veronica. Making her couch upon a heap of hay, she sank at once into a deep and refreshing slumber. “Next door,” said a spectacled young person of seventeen or eighteen, with an impatient indication of the direction. She came back with two women, one in each arm, which she threw down like sticks as she alit onto the stone causeway. Perhaps I ought not to; but this isn't a case to fiddle-faddle over. This was just what he needed. I wonder, Ann Veronica, if, when our time comes, we shall be any wiser?” Ann Veronica watched a water-beetle fussing across the green depths. Here she would find candy awaiting her, bits of ribbon, books. “Even if he lives here you may go all your life and never come face to face with him again.
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