The tired woman looked up in inquiring silence at Ann Veronica’s diffident entry. The echoes of his hard, unpleasant laugh reached Anna on her way upstairs. She felt like Snow White in a secret forest house populated by dwarves. “I heard nothing,” he declared, “and my ears are good. Women to me are something so serene, so fine, so feminine, and politics are so dusty, so sordid, so wearisome and quarrelsome. It was the same Bios whose nature and drift and ways and methods and aspects engaged them all. ‘Damnation! Too late. His hair was thick and brown and his skin was fair. ’ ‘No, sister, I know that, but—’ ‘You needn’t tell me.
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