His diminutive hand flew out from behind his back like a wounded bird. Ann Veronica’s universe, which had never been altogether so respectful to her as she could have wished, gave a shout and whirled head over heels. His glance swept up again and found her staring at him with much of her usual defiance, if a touch less of her customary assurance. He could remember when women laid away their gowns in lavender—as this girl's mother had.
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