It was a great relief to arrive at last at that pause when she could say to her aunt, “Now, dear?” and rise and hold back the curtain through the archway. “Certainly. ’ ‘Leonardo again,’ Gerald muttered and, to her disappointment, dropped her hand. The autumn rain had made every surface tacky, the wet seats of painted red picnic tables were avoided. Neither father, aunt, nor brothers made a sign, and then one afternoon in early February her aunt came up in a state between expostulation and dignified resentment, but obviously very anxious for Ann Veronica’s welfare.
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