His perception of her personal beauty deepened and quickened with each encounter. But he had always felt (he had never allowed himself to think of it) that the promptitude of their family was a little indelicate of her, and in a sense an intrusion. She looked at her for a moment fixedly. He had removed his silk hat, and now sat looking at Ann Veronica over an untouched cup of tea; he sat gloating upon her, trying to catch her eye. She pulled at his tee shirt again, wishing to feel his naked chest upon hers. Outside the post-office stood a nohatted, blond young man in gray flannels, who was elaborately affixing a stamp to a letter. Kneebone assures me he didn't receive them, I can't do otherwise than believe you.
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