To her, marriage would be a buckler against the two evils which pursued her. All her tender lures, inherent and acquired, had shattered themselves futilely against the reserve he had set between them. “You are developing far too retentive a memory for praises,” said Ann Veronica. She was afraid people would follow her, she was afraid of the dark, open doorways she passed, and afraid of the blazes of light; she was afraid to be alone, and she knew not what it was she feared.
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