” Part 4 It was not Ann Veronica’s fault that the night’s work should have taken upon itself the forms of wild burlesque. A sob was strangled in her throat. Life’s hard enough nowadays for an unprotected male. She hung about his chair, followed him to the door, touched his sleeve timidly, all the while striving to pronounce the words which refused to rise to her tongue. He haunted a state between hectic dreaming and mild delirium, and she found herself talking aloud to him. At the sound of the door Ann Veronica uncovered a tearless face, and with one swift movement assumed a conversational attitude. “But it makes me feel inhuman,” he added.
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