” “I say, you know, you have some pluck. ” “Your priestess,” whispered Ann Veronica, softly. ” The brutality of his first astonishment was evaporating. What she did not know, and what she was never to know, was that the divine fire was hers. It reminded her viscerally of her subhuman status, stripped away of the pretenses of art, intellect, and nicety.
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