It is like some accident. She could not make up her mind which was the finer, more elemental thing, which gave its values to the other. " "Poor child!" muttered Trenchard, abstractedly; "the whole scene upon the river is passing before me. They are blinded to all fine and subtle things —they look at life with bloodshot eyes and dilated nostrils. Ann Veronica realized that she was alone with the world. There was no way of recalling the words; so she waited. For a time Ann Veronica’s attention was diverted by her aunt’s interest in the salted almonds.
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