It was, Ann Veronica felt, as a sip or so of that remarkable blend warmed her blood, just the sort of thing that her aunt would not approve, to be lunching thus, tete-a-tete with a man; and yet at the same time it was a perfectly innocent as well as agreeable proceeding. “John?” He turned around in the recliner. She heard the ocean in the distance, waves crashing on the beach, high tide. Ann Veronica decided that “hoydenish ragger” was the only phrase to express her.
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