What sort of a standard of life yours may be I do not know, yet in your heart you know very well that every word you have spoken to me has been a veiled insult, every time you have come into my presence has been an outrage. ’ She was silent for a space, and it was evident that this part of the story was still too painful to be recalled with ease. I suppose this is the sort of damned rubbish—” “Oh! Ssh, Peter!” cried Miss Stanley. At the opening of the van doors and the emergence into the fresh air Ann Veronica’s doubt and depression gave place to the wildest exhilaration.
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