58 \"Why will you not touch me?\" She cried out, sitting up, her head in her hands. In the artificial light her skin had the tint and lustre of a yellow pearl. The funeral, it has just been said, took place on that day. Keep up the clamour for five minutes, and I'll finish it. You know not what a wretched guilty thing I am. ‘What in God’s name do you think you’re playing at?’ ‘Let me alone, man,’ Gerald muttered under his breath. He seemed to stay away from her because she was so cold and formal towards him, addressing him as Mister McCloskey as if she were an Irish maid. "What proof have you of the truth of this story?" inquired Trenchard. "I swear it," rejoined Jonathan, readily. Part 6 When Ann Veronica reached her little bed-sitting-room again, every nerve in her body was quivering with shame and self-disgust.
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