They made a stratum into which Ann Veronica was now plunged up to her neck; it had become her stratum. She climbed slowly towards it, keeping close to the hedge side, fragrant with wild roses, and holding her skirts high above the dew-laden grass. Quite right. The soil was identical, the climate; still, they would not bear the Olympian fruit, with its purple-lined jacket and its snow-white pulp. ” Ann Veronica said nothing, and Miss Klegg went on: “He very often IS— most unfair. I begin to understand Jane Austen and chintz covers and decency and refinement and all the rest of it. Wasn't the river beautiful under the moonlight?" "We did not leave our cabins. She winced when first she heard the preparation-room door open and Capes came down the laboratory; but when at last he reached her she was self-possessed.
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