Part 8 And as she sat on her bed that night, musing and half-undressed, she began to run one hand down her arm and scrutinize the soft flow of muscle under her skin. ‘Thought you were going to break in here,’ he said, in an impatient whisper. “I think,” she said, “that I will tell you everything. It was years before your time. It had been Ann Veronica’s lot as the youngest child to live in a home that became less animated and various as she grew up. He came to the door and as he opened it a crack, she pushed herself inside urgently. Earles scratched his chin for a moment thoughtfully. There’s something—puppyish in a man’s usual attitude to women. In this hour its colossal selfishness never occurred to him.
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