“I wish,” she said, “that you would leave off looking at me as though I were something grisly. She walked for a mile or more recklessly, close veiled, with swift level footsteps, though her brain was in a whirl and a horrible faintness all the time hovered about her. This won’t do. D'ye hear. . ” “Oh, I’m not trying to help it,” said Ann Veronica. The thought of beauty became an obsession. The horror of those few minutes was still with her.
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