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. A deep dread calm, like that which precedes a thunderstorm, now prevailed amongst the assemblage. ” “Oh, okay. I loathe this room. I do not wish that the soldiers there will see it shine.
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