Capes went first, finding footholds and, where the drops in the strataedges came like long, awkward steps, placing Ann Veronica’s feet. Tell him about the island, the coconut dance, the wooden tom-toms; read to him. She accomplished it with the aid of the young fellow’s hand, and stepped down into the road, glancing up at the house as she did so. That would come later. We are amiable to one another, but we don’t mix. The postilion obeyed, and dashed off as hard as his horses could gallop along the beautiful road leading to Neasdon and Willesden, just as the serving-men made their appearance.
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