CHAPTER XIX. “No,” said Ann Veronica, “but I want to know. You fell in at once with her quixotic and damnable scheme of foisting her reputation and her follies upon your shoulders whilst she marries a rich man and commences all over again a life of selfish pleasure. Let us pass, Sir. No one spoke to her. It was one of the secret troubles of her mind, this grotesque twist her ideas would sometimes take, as though they rebelled and rioted. The act was mechanical, a bit of sparring for time: his anger was searching about for a new vent.
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