The girl was like some north-country woodland pool, penetrated by a single shaft of sunlight—beautifully clear in one spot and mysteriously obscured elsewhere. Part 4 At eight that evening Miss Stanley tapped at Ann Veronica’s bedroom door. “I’m sorry Mister McCloskey! I was out seeing my boyfriend!” He stared at her concernedly. I couldn’t sit down for a week!” “Oh, how terrible for you. I know that in my heart I would take whatever he gave. Not my affair, of course, but I think we ought to teach them more or restrain them more.
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