He was and always would be dramatizing his emotions; perpetually he would be confounding his actual with his imaginary self. When she saw Ann Veronica she stood for a moment as if entranced, and then advanced with outstretched hands. No more did she offer her forehead for the good-night kiss. I felt—wrapped in thick cobwebs. She returned home through a world that was as roseate as it had been gray overnight.
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