Anything in the least irregular is like poison to him. He continued thoughtfully. The rich, heavy food sat in her stomach like so many soft pebbles. Gods! what it must be to pour out strong, splendid verse—mighty lines! mighty lines! If I do, Ann Veronica, it will be you. Suddenly she had become afraid. She could hardly remember his face except for his brown hair, thick lips, and narrow dark eyes. You simply can’t. ’ I don’t know what you’d call it —a sort of witchery, almost suggestiveness.
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