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“At the Tredgold Women’s College,” said Ann Veronica. A black silk furbelowed scarf covered her shoulders; and over the kincob gown hung a yellow satin apron, trimmed with white Persian. Not a star could be discerned, but, in their stead, streaks of lurid radiance, whence proceeding it was impossible to determine, shot ever and anon athwart the dusky vault, and added to the ominous and threatening appearance of the night. “If I were to marry now,” she said, “it would be with a sense of humiliation. But this revulsion was engulfed by the succeeding waves of pity and understanding. ’ The girl shook her head violently, setting the feathers on her hat bobbing. Perhaps an hour passed before she laid aside the book. She was introduced, perhaps a little too obviously for her taste, as a girl who was standing out against her people, to a gathering that consisted of a very old lady with an extremely wrinkled skin and a deep voice who was wearing what appeared to Ann Veronica’s inexperienced eye to be an antimacassar upon her head, a shy, blond young man with a narrow forehead and glasses, two undistinguished women in plain skirts and blouses, and a middle-aged couple, very fat and alike in black, Mr. Valade accorded the major’s greeting a brief nod and gave his attention back to St Erme. So I've grown hard—outside.

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