The evening breeze came; the bamboo shades on the veranda clicked and rasped; the loose edges of the manuscript curled. If Ann Veronica could have put words to that song they would have been, “Hot-blooded marriage or none!” but she was far too indistinct in this matter to frame any words at all. The thought caused him an odd kind of pang—of pity, naturally. " "Where?" "At Yale.
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