‘Whither away, mademoiselle?’ he said grimly, ungently grasping her arm above the elbow. “What do you think of that?” he asked. He stood there, large and dark, enunciating, in his clear voice from beneath his large mustache, clear flat sentences, deliberately kindly. My poor Hoddy! I had to talk harshly, or break down and have hysterics. I was being stupid. Great vistas of history opened, and she and her aunt were near reverting to the primitive and passionate and entirely indecorous arboreal—were swinging from branches by the arms, and really going on quite dreadfully—when their arrival at the Palsworthys’ happily checked this play of fancy, and brought Ann Veronica back to the exigencies of the wrappered life again.
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