But then Lady Palsworthy had never seen Ann Veronica running like the wind at hockey. Cheveney was looking after her, I think, then. She has been a dear. There, after protestations of friendliness and helpfulness that were almost ardent, he mounted a little clumsily and rode off at an amiable pace, looking his best, making a leg with his riding gaiters, smiling and saluting, while Ann Veronica turned northward and so came to Micklechesil. There was only one clean spot in the picture—the ship's wash (all white) that fluttered on a line stretched between the two masts.
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