“I will be off,” she declared. A thing which had mystified her since childhood, a smouldering wonder why it should be, and until now she had never felt the urge to investigate. It brought no coconut. They were standing face to face now upon the hearthrug. Great vistas of history opened, and she and her aunt were near reverting to the primitive and passionate and entirely indecorous arboreal—were swinging from branches by the arms, and really going on quite dreadfully—when their arrival at the Palsworthys’ happily checked this play of fancy, and brought Ann Veronica back to the exigencies of the wrappered life again. pglaf.
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