It never is. “I think,” began Ann Veronica, “that you don’t realize—” He disregarded her entirely. The joy that filled her veins with throbbing fire urged her to rise and go swinging and whirling and dipping. “This has all the clean freshness of spring and youth,” said Capes; “it is love with the down on; it is like the glitter of dew in the sunlight to be lovers such as we are, with no more than one warm kiss between us.
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