With a finger crooked in his side-pocket, she measured her step with his, her senses still dizzy from the echo of the magic sounds. When her shock and the headache subsided, and she remembered that she had been reading the letter when Gosse had accosted her, she looked for it in vain. Once a week, every Saturday, they had a little gathering from nine till the small hours, just talk and perhaps reading aloud and fruitarian refreshments—chestnut sandwiches buttered with nut tose, and so forth—and lemonade and unfermented wine; and to one of these symposia Miss Miniver after a good deal of preliminary solicitude, conducted Ann Veronica. The spinsters—who on the morrow would vanish out of the girl's life for ever—had already left their imprint upon her imagination. I’m not a lovesick boy. . All her pride raged at me. “Is that not rather a profitless speculation, my friend?” He seemed deaf to her interruption.
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