It was cheating, pitiful cheating. I have read that authors are very selfish and self-centred. Ann Veronica said nothing. On reaching the churchyard, he perceived the melancholy procession descending the hill. And now she comprehended that the man (she had never known him by any name) knew she had surprised the look and had not resented it. ’ ‘Yes, but I do not wish to have a mystery. There was no past, no future, only this exhilarating present. You have made for yourself a unique place upon the stage.
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