She found herself again in the presence of some element in life about which she had been trained not to think, about which she was perhaps instinctively indisposed to think; something which jarred, in spite of all her mental resistance, with all her preconceptions of a clean and courageous girl walking out from Morningside Park as one walks out of a cell into a free and spacious world. “One runs about,” said Ann Veronica. "I did not know … that it was … like that!" She stepped back; but as his hands fell she caught and held them tightly. Many things were only words, sounds; she could not construct these words and sounds into objects; or, if she did, invariably missed the mark.
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