It was red and chapped. The evening breeze came; the bamboo shades on the veranda clicked and rasped; the loose edges of the manuscript curled. They walked across a moat of pea gravel that crunched like noisy cereal under their feet. Most of my people are upstairs dressing for dinner. “As if it could possibly matter what such a person thinks of you. How she learned of her heritage I do not know, but you need not imagine that it is greed that drives her. The women, Ann Veronica thought, were not quite so interesting as the men.
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