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Ann Veronica’s universe, which had never been altogether so respectful to her as she could have wished, gave a shout and whirled head over heels. “They died within a few months of one another. A jar of pink roses upon a tiny table seemed to gain an extra delicacy of colour from the sombre curtains behind. Here was a poor half-naked creature, with a straw crown on his head, and a wooden sceptre in his hand, seated on the ground with all the dignity of a monarch on his throne.
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