‘Dreadfully untidy, is it not? Can’t abide bare rooms. Loving was self-forgetfulness, pure delighting in another human being. But the love of life prevailed over his fears. Somewhere in the world would be his people, perhaps his mother; and it might soften the bitterness, of the return to consciousness if he found a woman at his bedside. It occurred to Ann Veronica once that she had known him when he was younger, but day had followed day, and each had largely obliterated the impression of its predecessor. ” “That’s one of our differences. She felt herself falling, her bile rising in her 61 throat, the cold wind spinning around her like vertigo.
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