. ’ She thrust him out of the room and made for the stairs. “Damn!” said Ann Veronica to herself, rousing herself for a conflict. Her heart swelled to suffocation. She could hear him from the lower floor as he locked the gates and drew up the wooden part of the bridge. Anna lets the deception continue and has to bear the burden of her sister’s reputation which, in Paris at any rate, is that of being a coquette. Only after he had pushed himself completely inside was the friction lessened.
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