Sir John hesitated. “This isn’t furtive,” said Ann Veronica. A fire enveloped her, a fire which was strangely healing, filling her heart with warmth, blotting out the menace of the world. So she took up Stevenson and began to read aloud. He heard the woman talking again. The life of a girl presented itself to her as something happy and heedless and unthinking, yet really guided and controlled by others, and going on amidst unsuspected screens and concealments. . ’ He screamed at me through the rope and tape, it was no use.
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