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Perhaps this was the real turning point: the hour in which the disordered mind began permanently to readjust itself. ” Anna was bewildered. I will endeavour. "Where are you going?" she asked. ’ ‘This, monsieur le major, is entirely your own affair,’ said the lady, haughty again. . Ann Veronica’s tense nerves started, and she stood still with her eyes upon him, wondering what it might be that impended. By this time, she had so far succeeded in calming herself, that she answered the greetings of the neighbours whom she encountered on her way to the sacred edifice—if sorrowfully, still composedly. The recollection of the forlorn and loveless years—stirred into consciousness by the unexpected confrontation—bent her as the high wind bends the water-reed. "I have one inquiry more to make of you, Sir," said the stranger, as soon as he had conquered his displeasure, "and I will then trouble you no further. It was one of the secret troubles of her mind, this grotesque twist her ideas would sometimes take, as though they rebelled and rioted. Sheppard's habitation terminated a row of old ruinous buildings, called Wheeler's Rents; a dirty thoroughfare, part street, and part lane, running from Mint Street, through a variety of turnings, and along the brink of a deep kennel, skirted by a number of petty and neglected gardens in the direction of Saint George's Fields.
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