‘But on the off chance—slim, I grant you —that there is a spy down there, I don’t want to miss the fun. ” “I suppose we are,” said Vee, rearranging the flowers in her hand. But that doesn’t alter the fact that there IS innocence. She was aware of it now as if it were a voice shouting outside a house, shouting passionate verities in a hot sunlight, a voice that cries while people talk insincerely in a darkened room and pretend not to hear. .
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