This laugh and his looks alarmed her. "I suspect our friend has thought better of it, and won't come," he remarked. “I’m rather a persistent person. ” Ann Veronica felt a slight embarrassment. It was the same smell that she had in his memory, but now it was definite, palpable, like a perfume. The wedding procession passed on, and the cynical rabble poured in behind. She went on her way now no longer dreaming and appreciative, but disturbed and unwillingly observant behind her mask of serene contentment. Presently the odour of burnt powder mingled agreeably with that of the incense. “Let me see,” he said. Annabel looked up and down the empty street, and then turned to her sister.
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