As silent as she had remained about who had brought her home last night. She would come and sit cross-legged just beyond the bamboo curtain and silently watch him at work. Soot was everywhere, for the lamp would not stay trimmed in the gale. But she did not talk readily, and in order to say something she plunged a little, and felt she plunged. “It is an annoyance, my friend,” she said, “not a tragedy. These and her general preparations had perhaps a certain disproportion. ” Lucy replied, and brushed past him on the stair. Her words, as she said them, seemed to her to mean nothing, and there was so much that struggled for expression. Ann Veronica found herself in the presence of the most disconcerting fact in human experience, the kindliness of people you believe to be thoroughly wrong.
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