‘Of course it is,’ corroborated Hilary. Old saltwater was right. ‘Is that a gesture of friendship?’ She stamped her foot. The tension was palpable. “This is MY thing,” said Ann Veronica, softly, with thoughtful eyes upon him. But she was not to be tempted. Somebody tricked you back yonder—baited you for spite. I’m fine. Through fire and water, through penury and pestilence, your hand will always be on his shoulder.
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