” They stared at each other through a pause, and both faces were flushed and obstinate. ” The tired woman shut her eyes tightly for a moment, and then looked with them at Ann Veronica. ‘Not in the open street. The spirit I drink may be poison,—it may kill me,—perhaps it is killing me:—but so would hunger, cold, misery,—so would my own thoughts. ” Part 6 It was remarkable to Ann Veronica how completely Mr. Aunt Jane had her quiet moments. “There is no—Good God!” he exclaimed. Whenever you grow impatient with her, remember the folly of her father.
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