A crumpled-up newspaper thrown from the gallery hit her upon the cheek. She laughed till the tears stood in her eyes. “You can’t imagine,” he said, “what a beastly thing a furtive love affair can be. She fluttered it with a trembling hand, averting her eyes from his, and he could hear her uneven breath behind it. But suppose I go?” “Now, Veronica! No, no. But I've stacks of books and a grand piano-player.
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