The boy would naturally attract the women, if the women were at all romantic. ‘You knew her well, Miss Mary?’ Mrs Ibstock turned at the window. I don’t half disagree with you, Vee, really; only thing is, I don’t see how you’re going to pull it off. The girl was like some north-country woodland pool, penetrated by a single shaft of sunlight—beautifully clear in one spot and mysteriously obscured elsewhere. "Disparity of rank is ever productive of unhappiness in the married state. It’s one of our conventional superstitions. Ann Veronica watched her face, vaguely sympathizing with her, vaguely disliking her physical insufficiency and her convulsive movements, and the fine eyebrows were knit with a faint perplexity. Her time and effort was justly rewarded, because the hard cold facts she knew about neighborhood intrigues were better than fictional soap operas. All the rest of our lives would be together then, Ann Veronica.
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