Warm life was behind that always, even if it slept. These sisters moved in a grown-up world inaccessible to Ann Veronica’s sympathies, and to a large extent remote from her curiosity. It was warm, shielding, comforting, and what was more, full of understanding. ’ ‘She once more,’ came in disgust from the girl on the bed. But her husband, whose deportment to her was considerably changed since the fatal knot had been tied, paid no attention whatever to her grief. They were just nice. All that confidence, born of irony, disappeared; and fear laid hold of him. She fidgeted and looked away. “Ssh!” said her mother, and then added, “A little natural feeling, dear. Her fingers rested upon his. Supper was over.
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