CHAPTER XXVIII. Probably a sick man's whim. She would often steal away to tryst with him in the orchard, even now she felt her loins grow warm with the memory of his ardor. ’ ‘Prudence,’ repeated Gerald unguardedly. Ann Veronica’s experiences of men had been among more stable types—Teddy, who was always absurd; her father, who was always authoritative and sentimental; Manning, who was always Manning. " "Thames Ditton—is that your name?" "No," replied the boy, impatiently; "Darrell—Thames Darrell. Wood?" "With pleasure," replied the woollen-draper. She could not say who, not yet. He sat with folded arms and knitted brows, thinking intently.
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