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ANN VERONICA TALKS TO HER FATHER-1-2
ANN VERONICA TALKS TO HER FATHER-3-4
ANN VERONICA TALKS TO HER FATHER-5-6
ANN VERONICA TALKS TO HER FATHER-7
ANN VERONICA GATHERS POINTS OF VIEW-1-2
ANN VERONICA GATHERS POINTS OF VIEW-3
THE MORNING OF THE CRISIS-1-2
THE MORNING OF THE CRISIS-3-4-5
THE MORNING OF THE CRISIS-6-7
THE CRISIS-1-2-3-4
THE FLIGHT TO LONDON-1-2-3
THE FLIGHT TO LONDON-4-5-6
EXPOSTULATIONS-1-2-3-4
EXPOSTULATIONS-5-6
IDEALS AND A REALITY-1-2
IDEALS AND A REALITY-3-4
IDEALS AND A REALITY-5-6-7
BIOLOGY-1-2
BIOLOGY-3-4-5-6
BIOLOGY-7-8-9
DISCORDS-1
DISCORDS-2-3-4
DISCORDS-5-6-8-9
THE SUFFRAGETTES-1-2-3
THE SUFFRAGETTES-4-5
THOUGHTS IN PRISON-1-2-3-4-5-6
ANN VERONICA PUTS THINGS IN ORDER-1-2-3-4-5-6-7
THE SAPPHIRE RING-1-2-3-4
THE SAPPHIRE RING-5-6
THE COLLAPSE OF THE PENITENT-1-2-3
THE COLLAPSE OF THE PENITENT-4-5-6
THE LAST DAYS AT HOME-1-2-3
IN THE MOUNTAINS-1-2-3-4
IN THE MOUNTAINS-5-6-7-8-9-10-11
IN PERSPECTIVE-1-2-3

some sort of inventory. "Ye Gods!" she said at last. "WHAT a place! 

 

"Stuffy isn't the word for it. 

 

"I wonder what he takes me for?" 

 

When presently she got down from the stile a certain note of internal 

conflict, a touch of doubt, had gone from her warm-tinted face. She had 

now the clear and tranquil expression of one whose mind is made up. Her 

back had stiffened, and her hazel eyes looked steadfastly ahead. 

 

As she approached the corner of the Avenue the blond, no-hatted man in 

gray flannels appeared. There was a certain air of forced fortuity in 

his manner. He saluted awkwardly. "Hello, Vee!" he said. 

 

"Hello, Teddy!" she answered. 

 

He hung vaguely for a moment as she passed. 

 

But it was clear she was in no mood for Teddys. He realized that he was 

committed to the path across the fields, an uninteresting walk at the 

best of times. 

 

"Oh, dammit!" he remarked, "dammit!" with great bitterness as he faced 

it. 

 

 

 

Part 2 

 

 

Ann Veronica Stanley was twenty-one and a half years old. She had black 

hair, fine eyebrows, and a clear complexion; and the forces that had 

modelled her features had loved and lingered at their work and made them 

subtle and fine. She was slender, and sometimes she seemed tall, and 

walked and carried herself lightly and joyfully as one who commonly 

and habitually feels well, and sometimes she stooped a little and 

was preoccupied. Her lips came together with an expression between 

contentment and the faintest shadow of a smile, her manner was one of 

quiet reserve, and behind this mask she was wildly discontented and 

eager for freedom and life. 

 

She wanted to live. She was vehemently impatient--she did not clearly 

know for what--to do, to be, to experience. And experience was slow in 

coming. All the world about her seemed to be--how can one put it?--in 

wrappers, like a house when people leave it in the summer. The blinds 

were all drawn, the sunlight kept out, one could not tell what 

colors these gray swathings hid. She wanted to know. And there was no 

intimation whatever that the blinds would ever go up or the windows or 

doors be opened, or the chandeliers, that seemed to promise such a blaze 

of fire, unveiled and furnished and lit. Dim souls flitted about her, 

not only speaking but it would seem even thinking in undertones.... 

 

During her school days, especially her earlier school days, the world 

had been very explicit with her, telling her what to do, what not to do, 


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