Somehow her walk home with him had been transmogrified into a melodramatic rejection, a slamming. I wanted the magic of love. “You understand, then,” he was saying, “you understand?” “I understand,” said Ann Veronica, tear-wet and flushed with a reciprocal passion, but standing up to him with an equality that amazed even herself, “I understand. ” “I don’t care how we meet,” she said. " "There is a great art in it, if you did," quoth he. " Something reached down into his heart and twisted it.
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