“Veronique!” she cried with a rising intonation, though never before had she called Ann Veronica anything but Miss Stanley, and seized her and squeezed her and kissed her with profound emotion. Pews had been brought in and set in two rows before the huge table, covered in white cloth, that formed the altar at the far end. Buck up. If you can imagine it, I survived it. White. They were just nice. But I never found any truth in the saying. Anna nodded as she briskly crossed the pavement. She drove me.
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