” “You are not going to that ball! You are not going out of this house in that getup!” Ann Veronica tried yet more earnestly to treat him, as she would treat any man, with an insistence upon her due of masculine respect. ‘Nevertheless, you will marry me,’ he snarled. So, one day, because God was wroth, her mother ran away with a blackguard, and died in the gutter, miserably. There was a murmur or two among the watchers on the bench, but no one ventured to intervene again. And yet for all that— It got into Ann Veronica’s nights at last and kept her awake, the perplexing contrast between the advanced thought and the advanced thinker. He made his speech a little elaborately. "I'd rather have given a thousand pounds than this had happened.
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