Ann Veronica found herself in a little stirring crowd of excited women, whispering and tittering and speaking in undertones. Her efforts were vain. She wanted to think of him as her beloved person, to be near him and watch him, to have him going about, doing this and that, saying this and that, unconscious of her, while she too remained unconscious of herself. “Yes,” she said, “that is what we ought to do. It was an intimate smell, the unmistakable scent of him and another woman.
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