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” He turned upon her almost fiercely. It will hold aloof, a little undecided whether to pelt or not—” “That depends whether we carry ourselves as though we expected pelting,” said Ann Veronica. Perhaps marriage hurt. The sky was cloudless, effulgent blue. She closed the book that she had been pretending to read and gathered her black umbrella and her backpack, a childish accoutrement she despised. You were wide the mark, physically; otherwise you had him pat.
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