I don’t suppose a girl can tell if a man is in love with her or not in love with her. Why ever did you let me get into that wagonette?” “I thought we had to,” said Ann Veronica, who had also been a little under the compulsion of the marshals of the occasion. 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. She sat herself upon the bed.
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