Whatever anticipation Ann Veronica had formed of this vanished in the reality. ‘—and I love your raven hair, and your bright blue eyes, and your very kissable lips—’ suiting the action to the words ‘—and I love the crazy way you speak English, and the way you curse at me. His pale and boyish waist was nearly as slim as her own. I would have liked to know. In the distance a barrel-organ was grinding out a pot pourri of popular airs. My, um, my curfew.
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