” “Why can’t you take me with you?” He begged. How do you like the story?” “Go on,” said Ann Veronica, a little hoarsely, “tell me all of it. She would be in the library, her favorite place, or on the bench by the colored glass window with her embroidery. Once more cheered by daylight, he hastened forward, and entered the chapel. It’s the poor dears who do, who know they will, know they can’t keep it up, who need to clutch at way-side flowers. ’ She spread her hands. That’s what I mean.
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