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” Ann Veronica’s mind was filled with confused unutterable replies. I was his wife. She gained her room, and slammed her door and locked it as though she feared violence and pursuit. He stood a little anxious and fussy, bothered by the responsibility of her, entirely careless of what her life was or was likely to be, ignoring her thoughts and feelings, ignorant of every fact of importance in her life, explaining everything he could not understand in her as nonsense and perversity, concerned only with a terror of bothers and undesirable situations. ‘—and what do I do? Well, we know what I do. “Another young woman, I suppose,” he said, “who knows better than her Maker about her place in the world.
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