“You can keep him at arm’s length. “Let go!” said Ann Veronica, through her teeth, strenuously inflicting agony, and he cried out sharply and let go and receded a pace. Then, very awkwardly, he took a stool and placed it at the end of Ann Veronica’s table, and sat down. In a moment or two, Madame Valade recovered her sangfroid. She saw her life before her robbed of all generous illusions, the wrappered life unwrappered forever, vistas of dull responses, crises of makebelieve, years of exacting mutual disregard in a misty garden of fine sentiments.
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