“Veronique!” she cried with a rising intonation, though never before had she called Ann Veronica anything but Miss Stanley, and seized her and squeezed her and kissed her with profound emotion. The darkness prevented the carpenter from discerning the features or figure of the stranger; and the ceaseless din precluded the possibility of holding any communication by words with him. To win the contest meant you would be chosen to apprentice in magic as a priest under her tutelage. Every house-top, every window, every wall, every projection, had its occupants. Lots of us are like that. But it was otherwise with the carpenter. They moved fast. What else could one say? I left him to suppose—a registry perhaps.
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