They're on the forward lounge in the saloon. “Oh, Veronica!” she said, “to leave your home!” She had been weeping. As soon as he had read it, he let it fall from his grasp. He looked at her reproachfully. Then he could hear Hilary breathing beside him, and from outside the muted twittering of birds. His manner, however, was as stern and haughty as ever, and his glances retained their accustomed fire. This year—I’ve got it badly. It would make the young wife unhappy.
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