Then as she drew nearer paint showed upon her face, and a harsh purpose behind the quiet expression of her open countenance, and a sort of unreality in her splendor betrayed itself for which Ann Veronica could not recall the right word—a word, half understood, that lurked and hid in her mind, the word “meretricious. “I can say no more. Out of these he selected a faded parchment and restored the rest to safety. ” “Don’t tempt me,” she said, laughing, and drawing her opera-cloak together. Essentially the talk was a mixture of fragments of sentences heard, of passages read, or arguments indicated rather than stated, and all of it was served in a sauce of strange enthusiasm, thin yet intense. ” Ann Veronica started from her reverie, sat up in her chair, became attentive. I could not hear his heart beat.
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