” For some creditable moments in her life Ann Veronica was utterly disgusted with herself; she was wrung with a passionate and belated desire to move gently, to speak softly and ambiguously—to be, in effect, prim. ” She laughed. "And now," she added, with somewhat more composure, "leave me, dear friends, I entreat, for a few minutes to collect my scattered thoughts—to prepare myself for what I have to go through—to pray for my son. It did not take a mind reader to glean that she had suddenly gained the boy’s obsessive attention. Lonesomeness isn't my worry. . The next weekend arrived and she made her decision. .
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