Anna picked up an ancient magazine, and began to turn over the pages in a leisurely way. Anna was married. To escape one phase of loneliness she had plunged into another, so vast that her courage sometimes faltered. Horrors abounded in every passageway as each turn could bring a vision of a poor woman running from her screaming plague-infested son or a bloated corpse of a rich man whose mouth lolled open, showing gaps where someone had pried out a few golden teeth. Can it ever be so good again?” Ann Veronica put out a firm hand and squeezed his arm. I am going to ask him to finish it. “You come into these sordid surroundings—you mustn’t mind my calling them sordid—and it makes them seem as though they didn’t matter. I didn’t get it, why she put on the innocent act.
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