“It is a night of endings,” she murmured to herself. Anna, I listened to all that he had to say, and I called to him to let me get out. I’m a hard young woman. I suppose my creed is, ‘I believe rather indistinctly in God the Father Almighty, substratum of the evolutionary process, and, in a vein of vague sentimentality that doesn’t give a datum for anything at all, in Jesus Christ, His Son. As she talked she made weak little gestures with her hands, and she thrust her face forward from her bent shoulders; and she peered sometimes at Ann Veronica and sometimes at a photograph of the Axenstrasse, near Fluelen, that hung upon the wall. Afraid, no doubt, he thought grimly, that her other visitor would leave.
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