’ She shuddered, throwing her hands over her face. "The end is the most beautiful in English literature. And as he walked by her side they began a wrangle that was none the less pleasant to Ann Veronica because it served to banish a disagreeable preoccupation. She would be in the library, her favorite place, or on the bench by the colored glass window with her embroidery. "Your voice seems familiar to me—and—but I'm getting a little deaf—and my eyes don't serve me quite so well as they used to do, especially by this light.
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