“Come,” she said. ” That night was the most intolerable one that Ann Veronica had ever spent. “Michelle, the only reason I ever started to behave or dress differently was to please that boy. Bon. It had been Ann Veronica’s lot as the youngest child to live in a home that became less animated and various as she grew up. His was the Latin turn of thinking; he had fallen in love at thirteen, and he was still capable—he prided himself—of falling in love. That is what my mother used to call me.
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