All her protests seemed stifled before she could find words to utter them. "Nothing you can say to the contrary will convince me that you have not been accessory to his flight. There you will be, in an inner temple. Even the abstract paintings on the wall were gray. He knew she had been weeping. "Gracious Heaven!" exclaimed the knight, upon whom a light seemed suddenly to break. The joy of being loved thrilled her as nothing before had ever done, a curious abstract joy which had nothing in it at that moment of regret or even pity. The party resolved itself for Ann Veronica into a game in which she manoeuvred unostentatiously and finally unsuccessfully to avoid talking alone with this gentleman. It slipped out—as did that “she”.
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