” She said dryly. Of the vast mass of these impressions Ann Veronica could make nothing at the time; there they were—Fact! She stored them away in a mind naturally retentive, as a squirrel stores away nuts, for further digestion. 207 She romanced a dark-haired farmer a few times, having long since forgotten his name. None at all. You have converted me to—Lester Ward! You are my dear friend, you are a slip of a girl, but there are moments when my head has been on your breast, when your heart has been beating close to my ears, when I have known you for the goddess, when I have wished myself your slave, when I have wished that you could kill me for the joy of being killed by you. Outside stood a stocky, combat boot-clad girl of seventeen with a teased mass of spiky bottle-black hair. ” “In his present mood,” Anna remarked, “he would follow me.
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