She had a bittersweet fragrance, like dusty books and honeysuckle. “And to-night we are friends?” “We are friends,” said Ann Veronica, and drew her hand quickly away from him. But it was not so ordered. Even to my own brother—if I had one—I could not tell everything, and you, although you are so kind, you are almost a stranger, aren’t you?” “No, no!” he protested.
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