Ann Veronica watched her face, vaguely sympathizing with her, vaguely disliking her physical insufficiency and her convulsive movements, and the fine eyebrows were knit with a faint perplexity. My sister was scarcely likely to make a mistake. “It is so difficult,” she murmured, “so impossible to explain. Will you marry me?” Anna looked at him in blank amazement. “Look here,” he said, protruding his eyes; “why get anything to do at all just yet? Why, if you must be free, why not do the sensible thing? Make yourself worth a decent freedom. What passed between them I cannot think—I dare not. For a moment she too had started and faltered in her exit from the room.
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