As to his mother, I've no pity for her. It came to Ann Veronica that life was wonderful beyond measure. ‘Are you going to come quietly, mademoiselle?’ he demanded with grim determination. He forgot Annabel’s idle attempts at love-making, all the cul-de-sac gallantry of the moment. ‘Don’t, miss,’ uttered the boy. Her fingers rested upon his. That was the true miracle of the gift; without actual experience, to imagine love and hate and greed and how they would react upon each other; and then, when these passions had served their temporary purpose, to cast them aside for new imaginings.
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