Then as she drew nearer paint showed upon her face, and a harsh purpose behind the quiet expression of her open countenance, and a sort of unreality in her splendor betrayed itself for which Ann Veronica could not recall the right word—a word, half understood, that lurked and hid in her mind, the word “meretricious. "Your father said so before you," replied Jonathan, malignantly; "and yet it has tarried thus long. Presently she was again in that dreadful tavern of the Thénardiers. Anna hailed a bus.
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