Her hair was of the darkest brown, and finest texture; and, when unloosed, hung down to her heels. They talked across their meal in an easy and friendly manner about Ann Veronica’s affairs. The mere fact that he was there in the train alongside her, helping her, sitting opposite to her in the dining-car, presently sleeping on a seat within a yard of her, made her heart sing until she was afraid their fellow passengers would hear it. “Too late, my dear girl,” she exclaimed. She found the silence comforting, as old people often do.
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