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She had money of her own—much more than I have—and there was no need to squabble about that. ” She massaged him. He is the kind of man who would much prefer a little dust in his eyes. The recollection of all her unhappiness, the loveless years, the unending loneliness, the injustice of it, rolled up to her lips in verbal lava. Perhaps there were experiences she would never confide to any man. I was his wife. “I wonder,” said Ann Veronica at last, “if I am beautiful? I wonder if I shall ever shine like a light, like a translucent goddess?— “I wonder— “I suppose girls and women have prayed for this, have come to this—In Babylon, in Nineveh. Caution forced her to speak calmly. F. Only I wish—I wish to-day I was a thousand times, ten thousand times more beautiful. And it's uncanny.

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