Thank him, not me, man. She is like some character out of Phra the Phoenician: she's been buried for thirty years and just been excavated. His glance swept up again and found her staring at him with much of her usual defiance, if a touch less of her customary assurance. She fell into a deep delirium, whispering hoarsely to her dead mother, cursing God in Heaven, cursing her doctor, cursing herself as apparitions of devils and demons pulled at her with yellow ochre hands. ” She sniffled. And they never talked of anything at all, never discussed, never even encouraged gossip. ” And Ann Veronica’s face was hot. Sometimes I tremble, Anna, to think how near I came to passing through life without a single glimpse, a moment’s revelation of this greatest and most awful of mysteries, the mystery of primaeval nature. But we get over it.
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