“Won’t you sit down,” she said, “and tell me what you want to say?” Her voice was flat and faint. Ann Veronica looked up at him and found him regarding her with eyes that were almost woebegone, and into which, indeed, he was trying to throw much more expression than they could carry. She felt him as something solid and strong and trustworthy beyond measure. She felt anger at Sebastian, anger at the thrill that she felt in her loins upon seeing him, anger at herself for never having the courage to end her own life.
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