Beneath the serene unconcern of Ann Veronica’s face was a boiling tumult. She had to make sure, for the peace of her mind, that this was really the man. "I used to cry myself to sleep, Hoddy, I was so forlorn and lonely. He stood on the top step for a moment, lost in deep thought. One could enter and leave by proa, but nothing with a keel could cross the coral gate. “The Holy Ghost! The Pope! My mother!” She squealed. “But, my dear,” she began, “it is Impossible! It is quite out of the Question. “I mean to go to that dance!” she blubbered. The natural gaiety of the place seemed to have affected them both. “That he should be in the same world with me!” said Ann Veronica, reduced to reading the list of good things the British Tea-Table Company had priced for its patrons.
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