” “I like the mystical way better,” said Ann Veronica, and thought. It was painful to want him so much. Later, there will be fever, after I've got his heart pumping. The wedding procession passed on, and the cynical rabble poured in behind. Sometimes the music would be tender and dreamy, like a native mother's crooning to her young; sometimes it would be so gay that the flesh tingled and the feet were urged to dance; again, it would be like the storms crashing, thunderous.
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