Forthwith he presented his card. “I can’t imagine what has come over you,” said her aunt. “You’re—I don’t know,” said Ann Veronica. Not MY affair. Last time— you made me feel snubbed. Natives are queer. But she did not know what he knew, that it would always be rolling up, enlivened by suggestion, no matter how trifling. Thankfully, he seemed pleased the moment he saw her face, which her mother had made her wash for weeks with the pulp of apples, orange water, and 21 extract of borage among other things. While he was stirring his tea, she ran and fetched the comb. Nothing more forlorn could be conceived. ’ ‘Tchah!’ He glared at her.
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