“If it’s about that dance project,” he said, “it’s no good, Veronica. I'll keep it for your sake. You have all the earmarks of a fugitive from justice. If by any chance I have made a mistake a word will bring me to you. You must forgive the poet’s license I take. You see, I’m selfish. “You’ll be there, right?” She asked, hearing his breathing audibly jump. She was drawn first by Miss Miniver, and then by her own natural interest, into a curious stratum of people who are busied with dreams of world progress, of great and fundamental changes, of a New Age that is to replace all the stresses and disorders of contemporary life.
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