A bowl of roses, just brought by Ann Veronica, adorned the communal dressing-table, and Ann Veronica was particularly trim in preparation for a call she was to make with her aunt later in the afternoon. I have said that I am but a nun now. It’s one of their worst traits, one of their very worst. Away in London even now Capes was packing and preparing; Capes, the magic man whose touch turned one to trembling fire. The curtain tinkled as her head brushed it, but he neither saw nor heard. Sheppard let fall her basket.
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