" "Do you want me to tell her that I am grateful?" "Well, aren't you?" "I don't know; I really don't know. She sat on the edge of her bed and looked about her, at her room, at the row of black-covered books and the pig’s skull. She HAD cried, Ann Veronica knew. The recollection of the forlorn and loveless years—stirred into consciousness by the unexpected confrontation—bent her as the high wind bends the water-reed. Then with an indescribable relief her feet were on the pavement, and she was being urged along by two policemen, who were gripping her wrists in an irresistible expert manner. Now then," he added more calmly, "I am ready to die.
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