She meant to leave anyway, or so she would tell herself later. I can’t love you. Seeing Capes from day to day made a bright eventfulness that hampered her in the course she had resolved to follow. She could hardly speak to me; she insisted relentlessly upon a separation. She sat, crouched together, by the corner of the hearthrug under the bookcase that supported the pig’s skull, and looked into the fire and up at Ann Veronica’s face, and let herself go. “Dinner is served, ma’am,” he announced to Mrs. Listen to your mother's prayers, and do not let her die brokenhearted.
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