"There's only one way out of the muddle, that I can see. The stretch of red dirt disappeared into a stretch of trees like Van Gogh’s painting. She was sorry for his liking her too much for his own good, but her need was too desperate to cavil at turning it to useful account. ” She chilled Ann Veronica a little by that last phrase, and yet the magnetism of her fellowship and enthusiasm was very strong; and it was pleasant to be made out a heroine after so much expostulation and so many secret doubts.
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