” He rowed a stroke and watched the swirl of water from his oar broaden and die away. ‘I thought it was his great-nephew, young Brewis Charvill, who is his heir. Gods! what it must be to pour out strong, splendid verse—mighty lines! mighty lines! If I do, Ann Veronica, it will be you. Her wings were oddly weak, but for all that she could fly. She had no intention whatsoever of spending her life in a convent, but that was not his affair. There was also a curious interview at a big hotel with a middle-aged, white-powdered woman, all covered with jewels and reeking of scent, who wanted a Companion. It seemed to her that it was her duty to get up and clamor to go home to her room, to protest against his advances as an insult. “Very well,” he said, “I will go. She felt her heartbeat accelerate until it was pounding her chest. And Mother trusted him. Cathy chimed.
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