Part 6 When Ann Veronica reached her little bed-sitting-room again, every nerve in her body was quivering with shame and self-disgust. Decidedly this was imbecile. He did not know—and probably never would unless she told him—that it was very easy (and comfortable for a woman) to fall into slatternly ways in this latitude. When I am angry, I can get very mean. You take them. You see me here, an admitted failure in the object to which I have devoted two years of my life.
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