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He did not have to. “We have a small studio,” she murmured, “in the Rue de St. “My husband and all his friends are fools, and the life they lead is impossible for me. Stay me with flagons, comfort me with apples, for I am sick of love. ‘I thought, you see, that we might as well enter by the same way our intruder had done. “You call yourself an artist— but you have no temperament. CHAPTER XV. I can’t even carry a tune with a bucket. He carried a small bag. Ramage talked always about women or some woman’s concern, and very much about Ann Veronica’s own outlook upon life. “I’d run away with you in a heartbeat. “In fact, yes, I do. But when all was over, a sorrowful calm succeeded, and, if not free from grief, she was tranquil.
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