You're an angel of goodness. The air was sweet with the perfume of flowers, and the melody of murmuring insects, the blue sky was cloudless, the heat of the sun was tempered by the heather-scented west wind. He had no use for Ann Veronica; he had never had a use for her since she had been too old to sit upon his knee. “Oh, theories! Being in love is a fact. “It’s no sort of good, Ann Veronica, pretending one does believe when one doesn’t.
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