She sat on the edge of her bed and looked about her, at her room, at the row of black-covered books and the pig’s skull. She glanced towards her sister, and curiously enough found in her face some faint reflection of her own rather sombre mirth. “And think, think”—her voice sank —“of the horrible coarseness!” “What coarseness?” said Ann Veronica. “Not a bit. “Soul to soul. Places, I found, were daily given away, And yet no friendly gazette mentioned Gay. ’” “What did he say?” “What does any one say to an invitation to dinner point-blank? One tries to collect one’s wits. Mrs.
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