Single pearls— Lord knows where they come from!—are always turning up, some of them of fine lustre; but I never set eyes on them. Her girl Clarice was next, dying within a single day, blood leaking from her pretty brown eyes like an image of the Blessed Virgin. “I loathe afternoon concerts, and——” She was really like her sister he thought, impressed for a moment by the soft brilliancy of her smile. He left that arid rule clear of the least mist of refinement or delicacy. “Ann Veronica,” he said, “I tell you this is love.
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