“Gracious!” she exclaimed to herself. She could not help herself. She could not realize what she saw. Then one old crone, short-sighted and shaky-handed, called Ann Veronica “dearie,” and made some remark, obscure and slangy, of which the spirit rather than the words penetrated to her understanding. "Do you compare your love—a love which all may purchase—with hers? No one has ever loved me. And when I ask you why it is you do so, you have no answer. I’ll pay it.
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