“And what on earth,” he said, “do you think the world is made of? Why do you think I have been doing things for you? The abstract pleasure of goodness? Are you one of the members of that great white sisterhood that takes and does not give? The good accepting woman! Do you really suppose a girl is entitled to live at free quarters on any man she meets without giving any return?” “I thought,” said Ann Veronica, “you were my friend. All was darkness, horror, confusion, ruin. Paris looms behind—a tragedy of strange recollections—here she emerges Phœnix-like, subtly developed, a flawless woman, beautiful, self-reliant, witty, a woman with the strange gift of making all others beside her seem plain or vulgar. “And of course you are my niece just as Annabel is, although I am sorry to learn that your conduct has been much less discreet than hers. Anna turned round with a start, which was almost of guilt, the poker still in her hand. . There came a wild rush of anthropological lore into her brain, a flare of indecorous humor. She crawled underneath the soft white sheets, reclining and pulling the blankets up to her chin. ’ She advanced towards him. "My father!" she whispered. Dunster shall fetch you a cab.
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