There, after protestations of friendliness and helpfulness that were almost ardent, he mounted a little clumsily and rode off at an amiable pace, looking his best, making a leg with his riding gaiters, smiling and saluting, while Ann Veronica turned northward and so came to Micklechesil. She closed her eyes and felt again an echo of the swamping warmth that had attacked her when his lips met hers. “If I was the world I think I should have put down a crimson carpet, and asked you to say what you wanted, and generally walk over me.
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