The joy of being loved thrilled her as nothing before had ever done, a curious abstract joy which had nothing in it at that moment of regret or even pity. Well, come back in half an hour. She HAD cried, Ann Veronica knew. I don't ask you to supply my place—for that is, perhaps, impossible. ” “It’s an unrest—a longing—What’s that?” The waiter had intervened. The service had not proceeded far, when she was greatly disturbed by the entrance of a person who placed himself opposite her, and sought to attract her attention by a number of little arts, surveying her, as he did so, with a very impudent and offensive stare.
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