“That’s what we narcs have to do. Afraid there'll be a love-affair. I call myself a man of the world, a man of many experiences, but I never knew what love meant—until I met your sister. . Ann Veronica was not aware of this literary side of her teacher; she had a little tinge of annoyance at Miss Garvice’s advantage. Prudence shook her head. But now it’s beads by the cask—like the hold of a West African trader. The slack cloth of her habit caught on a curlicue in the carved back of the pew in front, pulling her suddenly about. " "Wood's daughter, I suppose?" observed the other.
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