"I am a Yale man," said Ah Cum. I have always hated it. She realized dimly that there was no personal thing behind his cry, that countless myriads of Mannings had “My God!”-ed with an equal gusto at situations as flatly apprehended. “What is the good of pretending?” she said. Beneath the serene unconcern of Ann Veronica’s face was a boiling tumult.
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