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“Is that so? Who says?” He demanded, his eyebrows arching as he looked at her with puerile glee. “It’s the warming up of the year, the coming of the light mornings, the way in which everything begins to run about and begin new things. Remote little Ann Veronica! She would never know the heart of that child again! That child had loved fairy princes with velvet suits and golden locks, and she was in love with a real man named Capes, with little gleams of gold on his cheek and a pleasant voice and firm and shapely hands. I've got the watch-spring saw in my sleeve.
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