It seems to me just talk; it seems to me like the fancy of a dream. ” “A little pit!” said Ann Veronica; “a little prison!” “It’s just as often a little refuge. ” For some creditable moments in her life Ann Veronica was utterly disgusted with herself; she was wrung with a passionate and belated desire to move gently, to speak softly and ambiguously—to be, in effect, prim.
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