And the infernal thought of that kiss returned—the softness of her lips and the cool smoothness of her cheeks. It had been Ann Veronica’s lot as the youngest child to live in a home that became less animated and various as she grew up. Love lives on a higher plane. Shall we sit outside and drink a petit verre of something to give us an appetite while dinner is being prepared?” “Certainly not,” she answered. I’ve had enough of it.
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