I sit back now, letting life slip by and musing upon it; and I find my loneliness sweet. A bowl of roses, just brought by Ann Veronica, adorned the communal dressing-table, and Ann Veronica was particularly trim in preparation for a call she was to make with her aunt later in the afternoon. She had even played in an opera by Verdi once, but had to dress as a boy to do it. ” “And our destinations also, it seems,” she added, smiling. From time to time she would come upon a line of singular beauty or a paragraph full of haunting music; and these would send her rushing on for something that never happened.
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