Ann Veronica looked down at her fingers on the claret-colored table-cloth. For an instant, Gerald wished the rest of the world away that he might go to her and administer appropriate comfort. By George, I forgot! McClintock said there was a typewriter in the office and that I could have it. But some day she would find a place to love: there would be rosy apples on the boughs, and there would be flurries of snow blowing into her face.
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