’ ‘I do not lie to you now,’ she said, near frantic at the thought of losing him. The theme was a masquerade. The light was poor, so that she saw their gleaming faces dimly and indistinctly. She took refuge in beating her pillow and inventing insulting epithets for herself. “You see,” said Ann Veronica, with the air of one who shares a difficulty, “I’ve promised to go. The air was sharp and bracing, and the leaves which had taken their autumnal tints were falling from the trees.
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