Maybe the girl was telling the truth, and then again, maybe she wasn't. She wore a black satin dress, a little shiny at the seams, a purposeless bow of white tulle at the back of her neck, and a huge chatelaine. For a time it really seemed all-sufficient to her that she should love. “I wonder if there is!” said Capes, and paused, and then bent down over the boy who wore his hair like Russell. The women, Ann Veronica thought, were not quite so interesting as the men. The Widow and her Child II.
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