I never made any effort to touch them; so by and by they learned to light fearlessly on my arms and shoulders. They were ingenious disguises of gilt paper destructively gummed, it would seem, to Ann Veronicas’ best dancing-slippers. “Why don’t you?” “Well, it might mean rather a row. You have grown into my life, and I cannot tear you out. Washed in light from the vestry window, she held her ground, all thought at bay, bar the steel determination long ago instilled in her by her unconventional tutor.
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