Capes went first, finding footholds and, where the drops in the strataedges came like long, awkward steps, placing Ann Veronica’s feet. "Poor Jack!" cried Winifred, burying her face in her lover's bosom. At least, I hope so for his sake as well as my own," he added, mentally. It was as if her aesthetic sense had become inflamed. I wonder, Ann Veronica, if, when our time comes, we shall be any wiser?” Ann Veronica watched a water-beetle fussing across the green depths.
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