“And to-night we are friends?” “We are friends,” said Ann Veronica, and drew her hand quickly away from him. “Mike, what’s going on?” She sat up, groggily rubbing her eyes. That world of fine printed cambrics and escorted maidens, of delicate secondary meanings and refined allusiveness, presented itself to her imagination with the brightness of a lost paradise, as indeed for many women it is a lost paradise. Then we can loiter and gossip to our heart’s content.
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