. She was retuning, fifths spilling from the sliver of light underneath the door like milk. “There,” he said, “you don’t treat me fairly, Miss Stanley. All he will say is that she said so—as if anyone could believe a word the girl said. Why were you following Valade?’ She shrugged and turned away, moving as if to seek escape among the bookshelves all about one corner of the room. . . A common rage flushed their faces. It was a bright and beautiful day: so bright, so beautiful, that even her sad heart was cheered by it. Ann Veronica blushed.
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