The supreme effect for Ann Veronica was its surpassing relevance; it made every other atmosphere she knew seem discursive and confused. "I knew how it would be," she cried, in the shrill voice peculiar to a shrew, "when you brought that worthless hussy's worthless brat into the house. He also had Janine’s daughter, Traci, who he just couldn’t leave alone after she reached puberty, when she grew a small set of underdeveloped breasts. Ain’t enough as I’ve got militiamen quartered on me this se’ennight, lazing about all day, eating me out of house and home and drinking my liquor into the bargain. No man knew whence she had come nor why. And imprinting a kiss upon his mother's cold lips, he left the room. The Wastrel did not relish this.
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