She was a swan among geese, trying to look plain and dowdy. She hated being angry, the uselessness of it all, the frustration. Neither father, aunt, nor brothers made a sign, and then one afternoon in early February her aunt came up in a state between expostulation and dignified resentment, but obviously very anxious for Ann Veronica’s welfare. But, by Jove! you are fierce! You are like those Roman women who carry stilettos in their hair. This is altogether insupportable. She had been careless. “He must never know,” she would whisper to herself, “he must never know. Sebastian was gone and another doctor came to bleed her, to rid her of the black humors that were causing the plague. ’ ‘I do.
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