She slipped on white thin-soled tennis shoes with no socks, her ankles exposed as Shari had once suggested they be worn. The curtain came festooning slowly down, the music ceased, the lights in the auditorium glowed out, and Ann Veronica woke out of her confused dream of involuntary and commanding love in a glory of sound and colors to discover that Ramage was sitting close beside her with one hand resting lightly on her waist. “He was a friend of your sister’s, was he not?” “I never heard her mention his name,” she answered.
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