She moved her elbow nearer to him and spoke in a still lower tone. I have it on my conscience that I offended you—” “Offended me when?” “I’ve been haunted by the memory of you. “I hope you are going to Carey House. A few seconds sufficed to clear the passage, through which it had previously cost him more than two hours to force his way. Yet the fact remains that you do not understand me at all. “I didn’t understand, Vee. She had a bittersweet fragrance, like dusty books and honeysuckle. He was reaching wearily for some kind of buffer to his harrying conscience. “Surely!” he remarked, with an expression of worried appeal. This is not the conduct of a jeune demoiselle. It looked very patient, she thought, and a little self-satisfied.
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