But her great-aunt was nodding, as if this was what she had expected. That wrappered life, as you call it—we’ve burned the confounded rags! Danced out of it! We’re stark!” “Stark!” echoed Ann Veronica. "Oh! no—no—no," cried Winifred, "I cannot believe it. "You won't betray him. I ought to be able to think things out. Her long incarceration at the convent in Blaye had taught her to be dismissive of her own appearance. I can’t imagine what possessed you, Veronica. She wouldn't be able to pass by anywhere without folks turning their heads. Don't unman him.
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