As she talked she made weak little gestures with her hands, and she thrust her face forward from her bent shoulders; and she peered sometimes at Ann Veronica and sometimes at a photograph of the Axenstrasse, near Fluelen, that hung upon the wall. He was always drawing contrasts between a woman’s lot and a man’s, and treating her as a wonderful new departure in this comparison. A great bowl of scarlet carnations gleamed from a dark corner, set against the background of a deep brown wall.
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