Her fingers clutched the side of the door as though to steady herself. “I beg your pardon,” he said, “but you appear to be a fellow countrywoman of mine, and in some distress. How could you draw the curtain aside which hides the great and holy places of life—you, who have never loved?” “You have become French to the core,” she murmured. “It is a very pleasant place,” said Ann Veronica, biting a rhododendron stalk through, and with that faint shadow of a smile returning to her lips.
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