I’m not a bit afraid of anything—scandal, difficulty, struggle. She looked at the white ankle socks on her feet and was reminded simultaneously of her pajama outfit and the suitcase that still lay underneath the bed. She could not speak. Never sent for the shirt. He was also aware that all his arguments would shatter themselves against her resolutions. “You understand, then,” he was saying, “you understand?” “I understand,” said Ann Veronica, tear-wet and flushed with a reciprocal passion, but standing up to him with an equality that amazed even herself, “I understand.
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