Part 6 When Ann Veronica reached her little bed-sitting-room again, every nerve in her body was quivering with shame and self-disgust. The room was dark and dusty. ’ ‘Don’t talk soft,’ begged Martha. She had lost it. “There’s morbid beauty,” said Ann Veronica. "The pocket-book you prigged contained the letters I wanted. ’ ‘What do you mean?’ ‘You must be got rid of, that is seen. Jeez! It was about time. "Pretty company for an apprentice to keep!—pretty houses for an apprentice to frequent! Why, the rascal you mention is a notorious house-breaker. He had no use for Ann Veronica; he had never had a use for her since she had been too old to sit upon his knee. “I have loved you,” he was saying, “ever since you sat on that gate and talked. Whenever ecstasy— any kind of ecstasy—filled her heart to bursting, these physical expressions eased the pressure.
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