“Go to London,” said Ann Veronica. She had recourse to the torn off strip of petticoat again, and blowing her nose with an air of determination, sniffed back the tears. Sebastianus claimed to have met her back in Mantua after the betrothal. The softly glittering summer stars! She saw them shining over mountains of snow, over valleys of haze and warm darkness. But she doesn’t and won’t divorce me.
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