"Whose grave is this?" he inquired of a man who was standing near it. “John’s here. The tourist season would soon be at ebb, and it would be late in September before the tide returned. How dreary it all looks. “Have you ever kissed a guy before?” She rolled the tissue into a ball in her lap and stared at it. The day was sunny and pleasant, devoid of chill winds. “I had a faint idea once that things were as you say they are, but the affair of the ring—of the unexpected ring—puzzled me. He seemed wholly insensible to the rain, though it presently descended in torrents, and continued his search as ardently as before. It is not, my dear Veronica, that I think there is any harm in you; there is not.
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