She sat, crouched together, by the corner of the hearthrug under the bookcase that supported the pig’s skull, and looked into the fire and up at Ann Veronica’s face, and let herself go. Yet you make our Bohemianism seem like a vulgar thing. ’ ‘The word of whom?’ came scoffingly from the pretty lips. A buxom piece, who looked, Gerald decided, as if she would be more at home in an amorous engagement in a hayloft than sitting demurely in a ballroom. I want to do without that for a time.
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