She felt a new warmth in her blood, a strange sense of elation crept over her. She hung about his chair, followed him to the door, touched his sleeve timidly, all the while striving to pronounce the words which refused to rise to her tongue. Ashen blonde, a shade that would never excite the cynical commentary which men applied to certain types of blondes. “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.
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