“I’ll go. It did not occur to her that save for some accidents of education and character they had souls like her own. Spurlock was basically a poet, quick to recognize beauty, animate or inanimate, and to transcribe it in unuttered words. “My dear Vee!” Her voice became very low. “Anna!” she repeated. Well, I'd no idea," she continued, pursuing her ruminations as she left the room, "that people of quality laughed so.
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