" The clock tinkled ten. “I love you, Ann Veronica. It had ceased raining, but the atmosphere was moist and chill, and the ground deluged by the recent showers. I keep on thinking of little details and aspects of your voice, your eyes, the way you walk, the way your hair goes back from the side of your forehead. It means so much from one as 179 beautiful as you. ‘As for you—’ ‘Do not address me.
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