Yes, this was a little better. But that other world, in spite of her resolute exclusion of it, was always looking round corners and peeping through chinks and crannies, and rustling and raiding into the order in which she chose to live, shining out of pictures at her, echoing in lyrics and music; it invaded her dreams, it wrote up broken and enigmatical sentences upon the passage walls of her mind. “If my own mother was alive,” sobbed Ann Veronica, “she would understand. It was his turn to express astonishment. “Quite on my own,” she said. "I assure you, Sir, when I left him an hour ago, it was locked.
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