what’s your name again?” He asked. Her hands wove through his black hair, luxuriating in its thickness. “Don’t!” cried Ann Veronica, struggling faintly, and he released her. Every eye seemed focussed upon her; and yet she had known the sensation to be the conceit of her imagination. “You are neither of you in the least like the ordinary boarding-house young man. Thank him, not me, man.
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