Sepulchre's church, and hurrying down Snow Hill, darted into the first turning on the left. She had never dreamed of such decadence, never imagined that young people could be so happy and healthy. ‘Your wife?’ ‘My wife,’ he repeated, rising also, his smile mocking her. He paused at the bamboo curtain of her room, which was in semi-darkness. In the first place, Mrs. For such of us as pretend to be wise—and we are but fools in a lesser degree—we know that humanity moves onward only by the impellant of fine dreams. The question ceased to be a tea-table talk, and became suddenly tragically real for Ann Veronica.
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