That handsome, finely drawn face belonged to a soul with clean ideals. An Englishwoman. Lucy’s guts ached with jealousy and bitterness, building in a knot that twisted in her stomach, rag-like. He was ill at ease, though he would not have confessed his disquietude even to himself. . I don’t care what divides us. It reminded Ann Veronica of having a tooth stopped. ‘Must be still downstairs.
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