The very old lady in the antimacassar touched Ann Veronica’s arm suddenly, and said, in a deep, arch voice: “Talking of love again; spring again, love again. Oh God! pardon me. I can be a gentleman. The brain tires of resistance, and when it meets again and again, incoherently active, the same phrases, the same ideas that it has already slain, exposed and dissected and buried, it becomes less and less energetic to repeat the operation. " "Your secret?" demanded Trenchard, impatiently. He stood before her. "Rot, weren't they?" "No. She came very near that night to resolving that she would return to her home next morning.
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