” “I couldn’t do that,” said Ann Veronica, sharply. I never forgive an injury. She was sick of herself, of her life, of everything but him; and for him all her masked and hidden being was crying out. Lights gleamed from the lower rooms, and, on a nearer approach to the building, the sound of revelry might be heard from within. “The truth!” It was a moment of awkwardness between the two sisters —a moment, too, charged with its own psychological interest, for there were secrets between them which for many months had made their intercourse a constrained and difficult thing.
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