‘Do not imagine that I will leave poor Jacques. He hung round those broad waters from noon until three and realized that he had embarked upon a wild-goose chase. There was no reason why she shouldn’t be Capes’ friend. The dream flowers and is harvested, and we are left by the wayside, having served our singular purpose in the scheme of progress: as the orange is tossed aside when sucked of its ruddy juice. They seemed the most wrapped things in all Ann Veronica’s wrappered world.
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