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Ann Veronica’s experiences of men had been among more stable types—Teddy, who was always absurd; her father, who was always authoritative and sentimental; Manning, who was always Manning. To Ah Cum, who was watching her covertly, the smile was like a bit of unexpected sunshine. Nothing is settled upon. Besides this, the door was crossed and recrossed by iron bars, clenched by broad-headed nails.
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