‘Adieu, imbecile,’ she threw at him gleefully. Ann Veronica’s universe, which had never been altogether so respectful to her as she could have wished, gave a shout and whirled head over heels. The trees were graceful and brown, arching and fanning their golden leaves as if to shower with coins the pink-gold sky. But not once in these ten years had they borne blossom or fruit.
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