” “It isn’t precisely faults,” said Ann Veronica. Sheppard. The youth with his hair like Russell cleared his throat and said rather irrelevantly that he knew a man who knew Thomas Bayard Simmons, who had rioted in the Strangers’ Gallery, and then Capes, finding them all distinctly pro-Ann Veronica, if not profeminist, ventured to be perverse, and started a vein of speculation upon the Scotchman’s idea—that there were still hopes of women evolving into something higher. The joy of being loved thrilled her as nothing before had ever done, a curious abstract joy which had nothing in it at that moment of regret or even pity. ’ ‘Why should you care?’ demanded Roding, exasperated. ‘What would you? The nuns they would not believe me, and so it was not possible for me to stay. It seemed to him that speech would be an anticlimax.
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