As she talked, the drift and significance of what she was saying shaped itself slowly to Ann Veronica’s apprehension. From time to time she would come upon a line of singular beauty or a paragraph full of haunting music; and these would send her rushing on for something that never happened. ” Her words were slurred with sleep. Painting is only one slender branch of the great tree. He was alert, well-groomed, and yet—perhaps in contrast with the more volatile French type—there was a suggestion of weight about him, not to say heaviness.
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