“What do we want? What is the goal?” asked Ann Veronica. He had meant to be master of his fate that evening and it had escaped him altogether. “Your mother was a Gypsy. ‘But it is entirely myself,’ she exclaimed aloud. Never again to be alone! To fit herself into this man's life as a hand into a glove; to use all her skill to force him into the position of depending upon her utterly; to be the spark to the divine fire! He should have his book, even if it had to be written with her heart's blood.
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