It came to Ann Veronica one night after a long talk with Miss Miniver, as a sudden remarkable thing, as a grotesque, novel aspect, that this slowly elaborating biological scheme had something more than an academic interest for herself. Michelle’s eyes were red and bloodshot. Detached, it was not impossible that she would be forced to leave the dining room because of invading tears. “Look here, daddy,” she said, in a tone of great reasonableness, “I MUST go to that dance, you know. You have changed from the veriest butterfly to a woman—you wear different clothes, you have the air of another world.
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