Her father held some printed document in his hand, and appeared not to observe her entry. "But it won't do. I think too much about myself. “I too am asked. Ramage talked always about women or some woman’s concern, and very much about Ann Veronica’s own outlook upon life. The air was sweet with the perfume of flowers, and the melody of murmuring insects, the blue sky was cloudless, the heat of the sun was tempered by the heather-scented west wind. Only in the sunshine; they would not answer my whistle on cloudy days. Day after day—five, to be exact—she had returned to Morgan's; and each time the man would understand what had drawn her, and with a kindly smile would sit down at the piano and play. “Do tell me all about it.
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