He seemed inexorable, and inscrutable as fate itself. “And think, think”—her voice sank —“of the horrible coarseness!” “What coarseness?” said Ann Veronica. You never can tell. “It means that I have had enough of this slavery,” she declared. . Wood, glancing angrily at her husband. Ann Veronica brought her luggage in a cab from the hotel; she tipped the hotel porter sixpence and overpaid the cabman eighteenpence, unpacked some of her books and possessions, and so made the room a little homelike, and then sat down in a by no means uncomfortable arm-chair before the fire.
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