?” she asked. “I’m sorry. Ann Veronica, with a sigh at the cost of hospitality, made a hasty negotiation for an extra tea and for a fire in the groundfloor apartment, and preened herself carefully for the interview. Practically. “I wonder,” she began, presently, “why I love you—and love you so much?. ” She could not go on, for she was laughing and crying at the same time. I don’t think I’ve got illusions, nor you.
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