Ann Veronica woke rather later than usual, and lay awake for some minutes before she remembered a certain resolution she had taken in the small hours. The call of youth to youth, and we name it love for want of something better: a glamorous, evanescent thing "like snow upon the desert's dusty face, lighting a little hour or two, was gone. Anna sent her away. Her tone was icy. “I do,” Anna answered. Ramage seemed always fencing about the forbidden topic, probing for openings, and she wondered why she did not give him them.
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