“One is always playing the surgeon, one kills always the thing one loves best. Marvel, in a tone intended to be consolatory. I never could. The very old lady in the antimacassar touched Ann Veronica’s arm suddenly, and said, in a deep, arch voice: “Talking of love again; spring again, love again. She had fallen into it naturally, the only expression of the dance she had ever seen or known, and that a stolen sweet.
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