Then as she drew nearer paint showed upon her face, and a harsh purpose behind the quiet expression of her open countenance, and a sort of unreality in her splendor betrayed itself for which Ann Veronica could not recall the right word—a word, half understood, that lurked and hid in her mind, the word “meretricious. It drives him to my island, where I can study him to my heart's content. Conscience was always digging sudden pits for his feet and common sense ridiculing his fears. She stepped into his arms.
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