She struggled fiercely not to give way. Ann Veronica watched her and wondered about her. Whether it was the nun’s habit or the harlot’s clothing that distressed her more, he could not begin to guess. "And now," said Thames, (for we must still preserve the name,) "you will no longer defer my happiness. Of course there are, millions of them. It was debauching, this—a devilish art which drew such strange allurements from a face and figure almost Madonna-like in their simplicity. I want to get away—to go to London. I don’t know what has come over me. Ramage admitted the force of that. ” She raised her eyebrows. “You must do more than think of it,” he urged. “This is MY thing,” said Ann Veronica, softly, with thoughtful eyes upon him.
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