She ran down alleyways and between buildings, faster than an Olympian, until she could hear his voice no more. And then! a garment that was conceivably a secondary skirt. “No,” said Ann Veronica, “but I want to know. ’ The lad Kimble moved swiftly to the door and walked out of the room. One’s sense of proportion, battered out of all shape in the daily life of cities, reasserts itself. Great vistas of history opened, and she and her aunt were near reverting to the primitive and passionate and entirely indecorous arboreal—were swinging from branches by the arms, and really going on quite dreadfully—when their arrival at the Palsworthys’ happily checked this play of fancy, and brought Ann Veronica back to the exigencies of the wrappered life again.
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