I said to myself, ‘this will come. Ann Veronica was carried off her intellectual and critical feet by it altogether, and applauded and uttered cries that subsequent reflection failed to endorse. The sky beyond was a surreal color of pink that reminded her of the windows she had once been entranced by at the castle chapel, their leaden lines depicting old religious stories and sufferings. Things that you and the nuns would not think about for—’ She stopped, biting back the words “for a young girl”.
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